


dark hair and blue eyes

by IKHoldrige73



Category: Free!, Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball, Persona 4
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, tags to be updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-11 22:49:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2086071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IKHoldrige73/pseuds/IKHoldrige73
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things spiral out of control for him the moment he wakes up in a stranger's bed with no recollection of what happened. Afterwards, it's just a bunch of things that continue to go wrong for Makoto and he has no idea who to turn. Thankfully, he's got his friends to lend a helping hand--even if Rin laughs his ass off before he actually helps--and Tachibana might just find a solution to this problem. </p>
<p>Boys with dark hair and blue eyes turn out to be his weakness. Who knew?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. scratch angel, this man is a saint

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so it’s been a day and the first couple of chapters are mostly ready to be up. Since I’m a lazy bum, and I really just want to put this out here, I’ve decided not to edit any of them, so if I could have your infinite patience for that I’d be very grateful. 
> 
> So this fanfic is basically this thing over here (http://ikholdrige-works.tumblr.com/post/93793683657/omdg-i-just-had-this-idea-for-an-au-fanfiction-and) just in good narrative format. 
> 
> Some warnings for the free!dom: This fanfic is Makoto-centric (as if my obsession with this man wasn’t badenough) and will contain both parts SouMako and MakoHaru. One pairing will take over eventually, and Makoto will obviously have to choose, but until then it will probably be a back and forth between these two. 
> 
> Also, since I’m a sucker for weird crossovers, the fanfic is full of Kuroko no Basket and Person 4 characters, along with the Free! characters. Again, I ask for your patience if you see something that irks you about this; tell me patiently and I’ll try to solve it in future chapters. 
> 
> This is my first multi-fandom fanfiction. Umm, what else? Oh, right! I can be rather fickle sometimes? As in, sometimes I forget I’m supposed to be sticking to something religously, and maybe chapter uploading will turn a little slow once you guys catch up to me on my 18 pages. 
> 
> I think that’s all, so! I hope y’all enjoy! 
> 
> And please, be respectful. I think this should go without being unsaid, but I know there’s been tension among ships in the free!dom, and I just want to make it clear I will not take any kind of bashing for any character or pairing.

Now that’s just _cruel_.

 

Souji knows damn _well_ that Makoto has zero alcohol tolerance and that he prefers a dark room the mornings after when he decides to get drunk. But, lo and behold, his curtain is spread wide open, letting all of the pesky morning sunlight wash over his face like some kind of heavenly punishment.

 

(Which, he figures, might be fair considering he got so drunk yesterday night that he doesn’t even _remember_ coming home.

 

Wait. That can’t be right.

 

Souji always gets them sober enough when they come back home.

 

Hmm.)

 

“Souji?” his voice is horse and his throat is dry, as he swings wildly in search for his glasses on the bed side table. He doesn’t trust himself in order actually _open_ his eyes, so he just resigns himself to patting the furniture in hopes of finding his specs. “Ngh—Souji?” he tries a little louder, hoping his best friend won’t hurt him for being such a nuisance after he—probably—made a nuisance of himself last night.

 

Makoto lets out a sigh, wincing when the headache he is currently sporting only gets stronger due to his actions. _Why isn’t he answering?_ He thinks uselessly, willing himself to open his eyes and get a pain killer himself.

 

Once green eyes open, the model wishes he had kept them shut.

 

He is greeted with a totally unfamiliar room to him. It’s not Souji’s or Taiga’s—and it’s no way in hell his own room. The walls are painted a soft blue and the curtains—oh god, the curtains are open and the light is honestly hurting his eyes too much.

 

Groaning in pain, the brunet turns around and buries his head in the pillows, noticing how _nice_ they smell—not to mention quite different from the kind of detergent Souji and he use back at home. He wants to hit himself for actually thinking about something so stupid when he’s clearly _lost_ , but his head hurts too much and he just decides on hitting himself later.

 

“Oh, you’re awake.” It’s a foreign voice and, although it’s not annoying or anything, Tachibana finds himself burying his head even further into the pillows—please, _please_ don’t speak so _loud_.

 

The voice chuckles softly and lowers its volume to continue speaking “Sorry, sorry—do you want me to close the blinds? Would that get you out of those pillows?”

 

Makoto nods against the soft material, hoping his needy whine isn’t too audible.

 

Then Tachibana can hear footsteps, something being set down on a table and then, finally, the glorious sound of curtains being drawn. “There,” the voice mumbles—the model is pretty sure it’s a man’s voice—and Makoto finally pushes himself away from the barricade of pillows “All set—I brought you breakfast, wanna try that?”

 

The brunet turns around in his place—careful to not let the covers slip off his lower half—and finally looks at the man who he—probably—spent the night with. Makoto has to stop himself from actually _gasping_ , because this man before him is a piece of artwork, and he thinks he doesn’t regret yesterday night _at all_.

 

(Okay, fine, he doesn’t _remember_ last night, but that’s hardly an excuse to not appreciate the sight.)

 

The man is taller than himself—which means he is _pretty damn tall—_ and has the most perfectly sculpted body Makoto has ever seen. Dark hair, blue eyes like the Caribbean sea—Tachibana could even say he might be in love with this man if he wasn’t so embarrassed about not remembering his name.

 

 “Breakfast?” of all the incoherent things he could’ve said, that is the only one that actually leaves his mouth. Not so bad, the model thinks to himself, and proceeds to adjust his position on the mattress.

 

The black haired male nods, turning to grab a tray of food from a desk behind him—probably the noise Makoto heard when the other was closing the curtains—and then walking over to deliver it on a patch of bed next to the model. “I figured you’d be hungry when you woke up, so I made you this.”

 

And okay, Makoto’s heart _may_ have just skipped a bit with that—no one had ever made him breakfast before.

 

(Okay, sure, that was an exaggeration. Souji and Taiga cooked for him on a daily basis.

 

And Rin did, too, whnever they would go out and get drunk together.

 

And Rei.

 

And Nagisa.

 

Fine, biggest exaggeration of the morning. Sue him, his head hurts.)

 

“Th-thank you…” he felt a little foolish. Here he was, getting fed by a handsome man, and he couldn’t even remember the other’s name! Makoto should feel--.

 

Coffee.

 

Taking the cup into his hands—careful not to spill anything—Makoto breaths in the soothing scent of well-made coffee. It was true he didn’t like coffee very much—not unless it had three tons of sugar in it—but on mornings after, when all he wanted was to shoot himself on the head, it was more than a welcoming scent.

 

“I didn’t know how you’d like coffee,” the other man said, softly “So I brought along some sugar and cream instead of screwing it up.”

 

Makoto stared into blue orbs and willed himself not to sigh dreamily—Mr. One-night-stand was an angel and no one would be able to convince him otherwise.

 

\--

 

After silence filled breakfast—Mr. One-night-stand seemed content to just let the model eat, for which Makoto was very, very thankful—and a pair of pain killers, the black haired man excused himself and told Tachibana he would go get some fresh clothes for him.

 

“Your suit had a stain and I sent it to dry cleaning—it should be ready by Tuesday.” A small smile was directed Makoto’s way, and it almost made him want to _drown_ “Your phone is getting charged in the guest room, and it’s been ringing non-stop since this morning so I guess someone really is worried about you.”

 

(Scratch _angel_ , this man was a _saint_.)

 

“Thank you so much,” Makoto breathed it out, feeling overwhelmed by such kindness “for everything--you’ve been very kind.” He hesitated a second, before deciding to come clean “I’m sorry, this is going to sound—this _is_ horrible, I’m sorry—uhm—would you mind?—Oh God, I’m a horrible human being—could you…?—I mean, your—could you please—uhm—tell me your name?”

 

As he shrunk down against the pillows behind him—bless these pillows—Makoto heard _laughter_ coming from the other man. His headache was wearing off by now, thanks to the pain killers, so he was able to cherish every second of the sound, basking in the beauty of it and smiling despite himself.

 

“Sousuke Yamazaki,” the man introduced himself, sporting a silly grin “What about yours?”

 

Which was when it dawned on Makoto: this man—Yamazaki, he reminded himself—remembered just as much from last night as Tachibana himself did. Which meant he didn’t remember _anything_ at all, much less the brunet’s name.

 

The model’s shoulders slumped forward and he relaxed, feeling some kind of relief despite the circumstances. It wasn’t particularly flattering to not be remembered by someone you had sex with, but it wasn’t like Makoto could conjure a memory either—they were even, and it made Makoto feel like less of a jerk.

 

“I’m Makoto Tachibana.” The brunet finally said, smiling warmly at the other man.

 

Sousuke rolled his right shoulder backwards—a sign, perhaps, of nervousness—and chuckled “We’re big jerks, aren’t we?”

 

Makoto was glad it hadn’t been him to say it, as he nodded “Yeah, we are. Sorry about not remembering—I must’ve been pretty drunk.”

 

“It’s cool,” Yamazaki said, pushing the door open and sliding outside “I’m gonna go get you those clothes so you can take a shower.” And with that, he closed the door.

 

Sighing, the model let himself fall back into the bed, bouncing a couple of times as he settled on the mattress. This was actually _nice_ , he thought absentmindedly, Sousuke was a good-looking man, Makoto wasn’t that _much_ of a jerk, and he got a delicious breakfast despite the trouble he may have caused.

 

“Sousuke Yamazaki, hmm?” he couldn’t stop the silly smile that curved his lips as he sunk back into the pillows, taking in the unfamiliar, but pleasant smell that these gave.

\--

 

“Your phone finished charging.”

 

Makoto was about to tell him not to throw it his way—because god knows he’s a horrible catch—but it was too late, and the model found himself fumbling to avoid his phone dropping on the floor before he knew it. Sousuke’s laughter made itself present again, and it warmed Tachibana’s insides enough to stop him from being angry at his phone’s almost-death.

 

“Sorry about that,” Yamazaki apologizes from his place in the couch “Wanna come watch TV with me? Make things less awkward?”

 

The option sounds tempting—actually, _too_ tempting—but Makoto takes one look and his phone, and decides the most civil thing to do is go back home before someone has a heart attack. Rei tops the chart with twenty-one missed calls and thirty-four text messages; followed by the combined forces of Nagisa and Ryou, who add to a total of sixteen missed calls and thirty text messages; Souji’s fourteen missed calls and twenty-two text messages are slightly more frightening; even Ai managed to pitch in his own text message, asking him where he was and to come home soon, followed by a worried emoticon that looked a lot like Nitori himself.

 

(Taiga, thankfully, seems to be blissfully unaware of his disappearance—as of now, of course.)

 

“I’d like to,” he says, sighing dejectedly—curse his sense of good friendship—as he fumbles around with his recently charged device “But my friends are really worried about me and I should head home before Taiga starts busting doors down looking for me.”

 

Sousuke lets his head fall unto his shoulders so he could stare at Makoto up-side down and frowned “Sounds like this isn’t the first time this happens.”

 

Tachibana, quickly flustered, put his hands up to deflect the theory “No, no! It _is_ the first time _this_ has happened! I mean, I _have_ gotten lost before—which explains why Taiga would bust down doors, honestly—but I’ve never—not this!”

 

Yamazaki let out a soft chuckle, pushing himself off the couch and rounding the furniture in order to stand before Makoto—and wow, he _was_ taller than him. “You’re cute,” he simply stated, managing to fluster the model even further “Don’t worry, you can go back to your friends, Ma-ko-to.”

 

(And okay, _this_ is just plain _horrible_. How is Makoto supposed to _leave_ now?)

 

“O-okay, then.” Tachibana squeaked out, giving a step back and pointing at the door “I sh-should leave—like, right now.”

 

Sousuke nodded, giving another step forward to close the gap between them again “You _should_ , yeah.”

 

Makoto gulped, trying—and failing, again—to get space between both of them. This wasn’t fair _at all_ and the model was beginning to take back all of the nice words he had said about this man. Why must life be so unfair with him? Just when he was about to give in and let Yamazaki have his way with him—and this time, he would _remember_ damn it—his phone buzzed in his hand, effectively breaking them both apart.

 

“H-hello?” the model didn’t even bother in checking the caller ID as he brought the phone up to his ear and answered the call—thing which he immediately regretted.

 

_“You asshole! Where the hell are you? Souji is **heartbroken**! He’s been calling you all morning and you continue to not answer your phone!_ ” He had to know Taiga wouldn’t remain ignorant for long—Makoto thinks his headache might be back.

 

“I’m sorry, Taiga.” He mumbles into the phone, looking slightly embarrassed as Yamazaki’s smile only grows by the second “My phone died and I had a horrible headache and—“

 

_“That does not excuse anything! I had a horrible headache too and I still had to listen to Souji basically **crying** because you wouldn’t answer your phone! Not even to **Rei** , Makoto! Do you know how worried we’ve all been!” _Kagami doesn’t _breathe_ while he’s berating his friend and Tachibana is a bit worried for his sake.

 

In the background, he can hear Souji claiming he was _not_ crying, and a calmer voice, trying to soothe Taiga into breathing and letting him talk to Makoto—probably Kuroko, by the sounds of it.

 

‘Please,’ Makoto thinks, shutting his eyes closed ‘don’t put Kuroko on the line, don’t put Kuroko on the line. Not him, not him, not him. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!’

 

_“Tachibana?”_ The world hates him.

 

Taking in a deep breath, he leans against the wall closest to him and hits his head against it “Yes, Kuroko?”

 

_“I am sure I don’t have to tell you how worried we’ve all been over you,”_ his voice is calm, but Makoto can _hear_ it—the disappointment masked by Tetsuya’s emotional voice _“What you did was very irresponsible—even more so the fact the Seta left you there—“_   there’s a pained moan on the other side coming from Souji _“Leaving off with someone you barely know whilst drunk was not very smart—come home immediately._ ”

 

And with that, he hung up.


	2. except on birthdays, and very, super special holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto might have a date, Taiga threatens to murder him and now he's overbooked. Yay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyo, everyone! Here’s Ivy with a brand new chapter!
> 
> I’ve decided I’m keeping the updates weekly, at least until you guys catch up to my writing, that is. Since I’m back to school and more than a little busy, I hope you guys can be patient if you do catch up to me eventually! 
> 
> This might be a little shorter, so I'm sorry! I still hope y'all enjoy!

Tetsuya Kuroko was Taiga’s boyfriend and part of their management team. Rei, although the head of the operation, had too much a kind of a heart, and was not fitted to be dealing with models. Although Makoto had never given the company any reason to be scolded, he knew Kuroko was usually the one sent out to pull them all out by the ears—though not  _that_  literal—and Kagami had been on the receiving end of quite a lot of annoyed lectures.

 

(Tachibana  _fears_  the blue haired man. He’s so small but, like Nagisa, he can cause a lot of damage.

Not to mention he’s probably going to threaten him about making Ryou cry.

Makoto likes Ryou.)

“The life of a model is though, eh?” Yamazaki’s voice brings him out of his reverie and Makoto turns to look up at him with sad eyes.

Shrugging, the model pushes himself off the wall “It’s not usually like this,” he says, looking down at his phone “Kuroko constantly uses me as an example for the rest of the company’s models—this was my first big fault, it was only obvious they’d react this way.”

(And, Makoto thought, I’m probably getting overbooked this week because that’s how they deal with bad behavior at Future Fish.)

“I should leave,” Tachibana said, this time putting a lot of conviction behind his words “Do you happen to have a spare pair of sunglasses and a baseball cap?”

Sousuke nodded, walking back down a hallway in search for both items. While Makoto was left to his own devices, he finally noticed the place—it was  _big_. And not just any kind of big, either, it was probably a pent house with how amazing the view was from up here. He didn’t know who this guy was but, whoever that was, he probably earned very well.

“Here,” Yamazaki was back, positioning the cap and the glasses in their positions before leaning behind Makoto to open the front door “I’m sorry I’ve caused you this much trouble—I hope you go unpunished by your company.”

Makoto doubted it, but it was nice to hear it coming from him. “Thank you—for that and for the breakfast, and the clothes, and everything else.”

The black haired man shrugged, smiling “The least I could do.”

With one last look, Tachibana turned and proceeded to walk out the door, adjusting the cap and sunglasses from where Yamazaki had dropped them upon him. He looked both sides and then took the right, hoping it would lead him to the elevators—or a stairwell, or whatever it was that this apartment complex  _had_.

“Makoto,” he heard the other man’s voice call out to him and immediately felt like Sousuke was about to warn him the exit was the other way “We did this all backwards, I’m sorry about that.”

The phrase caught the model off guard, as he turned on his heels to look at Yamazaki’s head poking out of his doorway. He had a small, sad smile on his face—very sincere, the brunet noticed—as he pulled himself out the door “What do you mean?”

Looking behind him hesitantly—who knew for  _what_ —the blue eyed man walked over to where Makoto was standing “I  _mean_ , we started from where we were supposed to finish,” the man rolled his right shoulder backwards again—definitely a nervous habit “What if, a little ways from today, we could go out and grab dinner? Like an actual, proper date? Would you like that?”

It was the first time Makoto was seeing the black haired man blushing, and he thought it was something that fit him quite well. His sharp features softened visibly and it gave Tachibana a sense of calm “I’d like that very much, Sousuke.”

—

“I will murder you! I swear I  _will_  do it! I know where you sleep, Makoto Tachibana! I know all of the places you frequent! Don’t you dare doubt me on this!”

Yeah, the headache was  _definitely_ coming back. Never mind the fact he hadn’t been able to hide his identity for too long and girls—some boys too—had attacked him on the train over to his place, Kagami screaming his head off as soon as he entered the door was, by far, the worst thing to have happened today. His friend had a magnificent pair of lungs.

Before he can begin to apologize to Taiga, Souji is up from where he was sulking in the couch “I hope he at least was  _good_  at it, you asshole.”

His voice is strained and it cracks a little near the end. It breaks Makoto’s heart into a million little pieces because, sure, he was scared of facing Kuroko’s silent wrath, but Souji’s and Taiga’s violent concern was even  _worse_. It was the way the three of them got used to each other—jokes and jabs that kept a caring undertone—and seeing them so fired up about his disappearance makes him wonder just what the hell happened yesterday night.

“I thought I  _lost_  you,” Seta is all hard looks and arms crossed over his chest—all traces of sadness are  _gone_  and there’s only this anger left that eats at Makoto “You were there one minute and then the next you were gone—like you hadn’t even _been_  there.” Tachibana notices, for the first time, his friend’s red rimmed eyes and purple bags under his eyes—he doesn’t look like he got much sleep “We spent the whole night trying to locate your damn phone, but it was  _off_.”

One of his arms flew out to point at Kagami “Taiga was  _drunk_  out of his mind—you know damn well he’s a handful! And you still go out and  _disappear_  like it’d no big deal! No text messages—not even a  _slurred_  one!” his voice was rising in volume “I would’ve preferred a drunken text message over this—this—this radio silence! I was worried! Taiga woke up with a massive headache and still insisted to look for you!”

“Souji, I—“

“No, shut up” it was Taiga this time, he wasn’t yelling, but his voice was firm—strong “You are the least person I expected this from—hell I even expected it from  _Ai_ , at one point or another! But  _you_?” Kagami laughed sardonically, turning away with a furious expression on his face “I thought you were smarter than that.”

“I’m sorry,” Makoto was finally allowed to speak up “I really,  _really_  am. I didn’t want to worry you like this—yesterday was irresponsible of me.” He passed a hand through his hair in frustration “Letting my phone die, skipping off with someone without alerting you—I was so out of this I can’t even remember most of what happened yesterday.” Seeing as Souji was going to build another argument around that, he continued “And I  _know_  it doesn’t make it any better! Because it just makes it worse, but I’m asking you guys forgive me  _this once_.”

He looks at them, green eyes pleading. So far, he hasn’t had to face Kuroko, and that’s okay. It’s good that he gets to speak with his friends first—clear out whatever animosity was between them—so that he doesn’t have to face the company alone.

Taiga is the first one to let out a sigh, and he turns to Souji expectantly. After a while of hard eyes staring at him, Seta finally gives and he lurches forward to capture Makoto in the tightest hug the other has ever been party of. They’ve never been very  _affectionate_  with each other—except on birthdays and really, super special holidays—so it comes as a bit of surprise when he suddenly has an armful of grey.

Kagami, always the oddball in their little trio, jumps at the opportunity of a hug as fast as he can, wrapping his arms around both of them and leaning his cheek against Makoto’s hair. They all laugh a little as the red head pulls them off a little from the ground and they’re okay. Tachibana understand the yelling, because this is the first time he’s been out and he can only imagine what it felt to have lost sight of him like that.

He promises himself—and his friends, silently—that it won’t happen again.

**—**

Of course, it takes a little while to assure Kuroko that no, he won’t be doing that again anytime soon—he promises—and that yes, he is just as committed to his work as he was when he first started, why would Tetsuya think otherwise, anyway?

“Tachibana?” Kuroko calls to him  _just_  as Makoto is about to leave his office—he wants to leave the office so badly, maybe shrug it off like he didn’t hear him, but he doesn’t have it in him. He has already caused too much trouble.

Putting on a smile, he turns over his heel and nods. “Yes?”

The blue haired doesn’t look up from his work— _oh perfect_ —and writes something before actually speaking “You have a photo-shoot tomorrow for a magazine—Haruka Nanase will be taking your pictures” the smaller man turns to him then, all hard blue eyes and looking kind of menacing—sort of like when Aomine is around—it gives Makoto shivers “I don’t have to tell you to be on your best behavior, do I?”

Makoto shakes his head, trying so hard to look appeasing “Of course not—I won’t cause any more troubles.”

—

“Your boyfriend is  _mean_  to me.”

Taiga eyes Makoto sideways, barking out a laugh when he manages to catch the small pout adorning his friend’s lips “You deserve it, idiot. You gave us all a scare—he was as worried as us.”

“Yeah, Yosuke wanted to call the police when I told him you disappeared.” Souji adds from his place in the kitchen—cooking makes him less upset “I think our boyfriends were more worried about you than  _us—_ should we be worried?”

Makoto laughed, hiding his face behind his hands as he scrubbed the tiredness away—his headache  _had_  come back after his talk with Kuroko.

Taiga laughed at something in the movie they were watching, muttering something under his breath about ‘stupid main characters’ and ‘their inability to not get into trouble’. Makoto would never understand much of Kagami’s humor, so he decided to ignore his mumblings and continue to watch the movie undisturbed.

“You never told us,” Souji called out, walking out of the kitchen with three plates balanced precariously in a silver tray. Makoto was the first to stand up and aid him, looking a little bit confused about what it was he  _had_  to tell them about. “Who was the guy you ended up with?”

Tachibana felt his cheeks redden almost instantly, remembering the conditions he had found himself in that morning and the embarrassment he had felt on not remembering the man’s name—or the entirety of last night—and Taiga dissolved into a fit of laughter again “You  _have_  to know who he was! You spent all morning over at his!”

The brunet frowned “I do know his name—after he  _told_  me, of course—but I didn’t spend all morning there!” Makoto was  _bad_  at defending himself “Well, I did! But I woke up at around eleven that morning and he made me breakfast and was super nice—he even sent my suit to the dry cleaning because it had gotten stained and—“

Souji held up a hand once he had finally put down the silver tray, effectively stopping his friend from rambling on and _on_  about the guy. He knew Makoto—the brunet model had a strange ability to keep talking even when he didn’t have anything to say. “Just tell us his name—no need to get all sappy school girl over him.”

Makoto groaned in displeasure, taking his plate from the table and curling in on himself to start eating. His friends were  _mean_  and no one was about to tell him otherwise. He was not going to tell them anything at all.

“Don’t be a baby, Makoto!” Kagami poked his side, amused “Just tell us his name!”

He mumbled the man’s name half-assedly, intent on giving his friends a hard time before—inevitably—spilling out all the details he had.

(Or as much as he could remember, because there was no way he could give them any sort of detail on last night.)  

Souji laughed, leaning back into his seat to begin eating—he’ll let Taiga handle this one, since breaking things out of other people was the red haired’s specialty.

Just as predicted, the tallest man from the three, shuffled all the way to sit right next to Makoto, bodies touching from ankle to shoulder, and just generally making Tachibana a little squirmy—he appreciated his personal space, thank you very much. “Come again? I don’t think I caught that?”

The brunet’s reply was mumbled again—a little higher in tone than the last one, but still undistinguishable.

“No, still don’t understand, a little higher, Makoto.” Taiga insisted, leaning against the other’s shoulder like his life depended on his closeness to the other man. Tachibana only grew more uncomfortable and began trying to push his friend away with what little force he could manage without compromising his food’s integrity.

“Sousuke Yamazaki,” he finally said, in a lower tone that was usual, but still enough to let the other two hear.

Finally, Kagami pushed himself off the other model, scooting away from him to lean against the other side of the couch. He got a pensive look on his face, as if trying to conjure an image that could go with that name. “That’s familiar,” he said, taking a bite out of his food “I’m pretty sure I might know him.”

‘Please don’t know him personally,’ Makoto thought, images of a hundred and one different events rooting from that ‘pleasepleasepleaseplease!’

Souji, who had fallen quiet in order to leave Taiga the floor, finally put in his two cents “Well, I don’t know if you  _do_ know him, but I know I do.”

(Souji knowing people wasn’t odd, if Tachibana thought about it. The grey haired was such a social person it sometimes bothered him a little bit.)

Before the brunet could ask from where Seta knew Yamazaki, the other model was up from his seat and walking to the back of their apartment—back to his room, probably. Taiga continued to ponder about the possibility of knowing this individual, as his eyes got lost in the food in his hands. A few minutes passed before he came to a conclusion, right at the same moment Souji slapped a magazine in front of them both.

“Sousuke Yamazaki!” Taiga said, leaning forward to eye the magazine “Professional soccer player, right?”

Souji nodded, and Makoto leaned over to see what the other two were seeing in the magazine. It was the picture of Sousuke, a little sweaty and wearing a Japanese soccer jersey. “Was this the man you spent your night with?”

(He would  _never_  hear the end of this.)

“Y-yeah, that’s him.”

“We used to play soccer together when I was in high school—he went all out and landed himself with a scout.” Seta smiled, sitting in his own place again “He’s pretty good—made it to our national team last year.”

Makoto continued to look at the picture, reaching out to pull the magazine into his lap. This explained why Sousuke’s apartment had been so big and spacious—not a penthouse, like he had initially thought, but pretty big either way—being part of the national soccer team was no small deal.

(He wondered, numbly, if Yamazaki had thought him an idiot for not knowing who he was.

Makoto was awful. He hadn’t remembered his name the morning after—even after the man made him  _breakfast_ —and he hadn’t even been slightly aware of his career path.

Bad Mako.)

“I will never understand your aversion against all sport that isn’t swimming,” Souji told him, smirking around the piece of food he had been chewing “But you might want to get schooled a little on soccer if you’re going to see him again.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love y'all for reading <3


	3. it’s a nice look on you; happiness.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto is beginning to like his one-night stand, he gets a haircut and then realizes he might have a type. 
> 
> (He still doesn't know it's about to get worse.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one’s shorter *sulks in a corner* 
> 
> I didn’t realize chapter three was so short when I first started cutting the whole thing down into chapters. You can get the tomatoes ready and throw them at me if you please—I am a terrible writer.
> 
> I’m at school at the moment, and I have class soon (I just hope my battery doesn’t die. I was sure I left it charged yesterday night) so you guys won’t be hearing from until about 6 (Yes, I slave away ‘til four at soccer and then I have to wait for the 5:30 bus) 
> 
> I hope y’all enjoy!

“I’m sorry,” he’s been doing a lot of apologizing this past two days “I can’t today—I have some big photo-shoot and Kuroko will have my neck if I bail on him.”

Sousuke’s laugh on the other side is enough to calm his nerves—of course this _angel_  wouldn’t be angry about it “ _I get it, don’t worry about it. Tell me when you’re free so I can scoop you up and kidnap you to the nearest restaurant_ ”

 

Makoto smiled sheepishly “You got it.” Behind him, Ryou called out for him to hurry up—and then proceeded to apologize for rushing him—and Tachibana knew he had to hang up “Hey, I’ve got to go—I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

_“Sure,_ ” Yamazaki said  _“Razzle dazzle them, Makoto Tachibana._ ”

As he hung up, the brunet couldn’t help the snort that escaped him, as he thought how endearingly dorky that had been.

“Makoto,” Ryou’s voice snapped him out his Sousuke-induced trance “I’m sorry, but we really need to get going. Nanase is already at his studio and he doesn’t have much patience.”

Tachibana nodded, feeling bad about having pulled Sakurai into this mess. It was usually him who baby sat ‘grounded’ models—no matter how stupid that sounded, Nagisa  _refused_  in changing the term—and now, not only was Makoto overbooked, but he had pulled Ryou into his tight schedule as well. “Let’s go, Ryou…”

The ride over there was mostly silence—filled sometimes with Sakurai’s constant apologies at other drivers he had accidentally cut or something like that—and Makoto took the moment to text a bit with Sousuke.

The truth was, he  _wanted_  to know this guy—he wanted to talk to him for a whole day and get to know all of his quirks and habits; wanted to date him and maybe see what would come out of it. It was a  _thrill_ , something he hadn’t felt since a long time ago.

“Makoto?” Sakurai calls from the driver seat “You look happy.”

Makoto turns to look at his body guard, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks at Ryou’s knowing smile. He knows there has been a considerable change in attitude between two days ago and today, but it hadn’t dawned on him how  _noticeable_  it is on the outside until Sakurai had pointed it out.

(It is a nice feeling.)

“I’m sorry if I sound intrusive,” the smaller brunet says, still smiling “But I think I like this Makoto better than the one who didn’t date—it’s a nice look on you; happiness.”

Tachibana feels like Ryou is right.

—

“We’re here!”

Sakurai’s announcement makes most people in the lobby turn to look at the two newcomers—the model and his body guard, from Future Fish—and Makoto shrinks away from their eyes. He doesn’t like people staring at him.

“Good morning!” a cheery, pink haired woman welcomes them at the entrance “My name is Satsuki Momoi, and I’ll be your guide around the studio today!”

Ryou smiles nervously, and Tachibana knows he is about to start apologizing for the inconvenience—they still need to work on that. “Thank you—sorry about inconveniencing you this way, Momoi.”

Satsuki smiles softly “It’s quite alright! Now, if you’ll follow me I’ll take you to your changing room so you can meet the team for today!”

Makoto nods, following after the woman as she begins walking away towards a corridor to the right. From the outside, the place doesn’t seem all that large, but as they walk hallway after hallway, door after door, Tachibana begins to understand just  _why_  they would need a guide to show them around.

Finally, they come to a stop before a door with his name taped over it. Momoi reaches out to open it and side-steps to let both men inside, sliding into the room herself after them. The room is quite spacious, with several people milling around as they got ready to welcome the model they’d be working with today.

As soon as Satsuki raises her voice to get their attention, they all stop.

“Guys, this is Makoto Tachibana, the model Nanase will be working with today,” at the mention of his name, the brunet bows hesitantly and states it was a pleasure to be working with them all “Please treat him nicely and get him ready in as little time possible.”

The team nods, and Makoto takes in a deep breath before delving into the world of being pulled and pushed into many different directions.

(Ryou’s ‘good luck’ might’ve helped if it hadn’t scared the hell out of him.)

—

“You know, Tachibana?” his hair dresser—a slim, black haired woman with delicate hands—tells him as she busies herself with cutting his hair “I think you might be the most polite model we’ve all worked for.”

Makoto smiles at her reflection, “Thank you, Amagi—that’s very nice of you to say.”

The woman smiles back at him, ruffling his hair a bit once she was done. It had taken a little while to finally convince the brunet to try a new hair cut for this photo-shoot, but Yukiko Amagi had managed to do it at the end. An undercut, she had said, would bring out his eyes and accentuate his jaw line—and then a bunch of other hair gibberish he had not understood.

“So, what do you think?” the black haired woman asks a man behind her—Kanji Tatsumi, in charge of costume.

Tatsumi hums, looking at Makoto’s reflection, and then nodding “Looks great, Yukiko!” a grin splitting across his face as he analyzed the model carefully “Good choice!”

Makoto passes a hand through his now cropped hair, looking at himself in the mirror. He has to admit, the hair cut wasn’t bad at all, and he likes how he looked with it. Before he can ask for Sakurai’s opinion, his bodyguard is behind him and nodding approvingly “Handsome as ever, Mako.”

(A comment to which, of course, Ryou apologized profusely.

It still made Makoto feel great about himself.)

“Thank you, Amagi” he says, earnestly, looking at the woman’s smiling reflection in the mirror before him.

Yukiko waves her right hand around “Don’t mention it—it’s my job!” then, with a pleasant smile, she ads “Please, be free to call me Yukiko—I’d like that very much.”

Makoto nods “Yukiko it is then—of course, you can call me Makoto if that’s what you prefer”

Patting the back of his head a few times, the woman turns over her heels and excuses herself—there is another model a few doors down who demands her attention and she can’t delay it any longer. She leaves him in Kanji’s hands, pleading him to dress him accordingly to Nanase’s directions and to make sure Tachibana is comfortable. It is the first time Makoto felt so at ease with a team that wasn’t his own back at Future Fish.

(Because, let’s face it, Akashi scared the hell out of him.)

The next thirty minutes were passed in a flurry of clothing and accessories that either he wasn’t comfortable with or Tatsumi himself discarded them after saying something about color combination and whatever else it was he muttered under his breath. The blond man was actually pretty fun to be around and Tachibana found himself relaxing around him.

Yeah, he likes it here.

—

After several failed attempts at choosing an outfit—and then three more, for costume changes—they finally settle for something that both the model liked and Kanji thought would look good. Momoi doesn’t fail to appear minutes after, clipboard in hand and asking Makoto if he was ready to go or if he needed a few more minutes.

Shaking his head as a negative, Tachibana follows behind the pink haired woman to where the photographer is waiting for him.

He’s heard about Haruka Nanase—one of the biggest photographers in the industry. Two of his friends at Future Fish—Kise and Ai—had worked with him before, and they had good things to say about him. Nanase was a nice guy, didn’t say much, and never raised his voice even when he looked frustrated beyond belief.

Makoto hopes he’ll be as nice as his image team had been.

“Here we are,” Momoi opens the door to a darker room, and stretches her arm out for him to walk inside “Your make up team is inside, and Kanji will follow you to leave your wardrobe changes, okay?” when she got a nod out of the brunet, she adds “You look very good with that haircut—I’m sure you’ll do great.”

And with that, she turns on her heels and leaves the place, claiming she had other things she had to oversee and apologizing profusely for having to leave. Ryou assures her it was alright and that they both understand she has other priorities at the moment.

“Go on,” Sakurai nudges his back “let’s get this over soon, okay?”

Makoto nods and walked into the room, being herded close to his make-up team by Tatsumi’s firm hand in between his shoulder blades. He smiles at Gou’s familiar face and thanks all the deities up and above that his best friend’s sister was here with him.

(Because being overbooked absolutely sucked and, though he felt horrible about having Ryou around with him for that, he still felt grateful for not being put through this alone.)

“Nice haircut, Mako!” Gou greets, sitting him down in the chair to begin applying whatever it was that she applied. “Your hair dresser made an amazing decision.”

Tachibana hums in approval, a silly smile taking over his features as she continues to praise his looks. She is such an angel, to be honest, and he really is happy about getting her today. 

“Tachibana?” a soft, calming voice comes from behind him, and he has to turn away from Gou’s ministrations in order to see who it belonged to.

As soon as he is allowed to turn around completely, he is greeted with the bluest shade of blue he had ever grazed his look upon. Unlike Sousuke’s eyes, who were tinged with green and looked like Caribbean Sea waters, this man’s eyes look like something taken directly out of a postcard. It almost shocks a gasp out of Makoto, but he does manage to stop himself before looking like a fool.

“Nanase?” he is pretty sure this was the famous photographer, so he took the chance.

Haruka nods “That would be me—I’m glad you’ve made it safe and sound here.”

A little dazed, Tachibana bows respectively “It’s a pleasure to be working with you today.”

The black haired man hums, nodding one last time, before turning to address Kanji about something that Makoto doesn’t care to listen to.

If one thing Kise and Ai had left out, was the fact this photographer is  _good-looking_ —for lack of a better word.

(And, dear lord, does Makoto have a type? Blue eyes? Dark hair? He is staring to see a pattern here!) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *has no idea whether her computer might survive the day or not*
> 
> *silently freaks out because she's at the library*


	4. someone has a fancy secret admirer!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto has mixed feelings, his photographer is perfect, he gets flowers, and Sousuke's phonecalls make him smile like an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, sorry about the long wait! One more day without uploading and I would’ve gone crazy, no doubt. 
> 
> So here it is! Chapter IV, it is longer than chapter III and things are slowly progressing—give me time, we’ll get there! 
> 
> Agains sorry about the slow update! 
> 
> Hope y’all enjoy!

Turns out Nanase doesn’t only have the looks; he is also one of the most decent photographers to have ever graced this planet with his presence. He is patient and soft-spoken, and always asks if Makoto would be comfortable with this or that. It is nice—refreshing—and it makes Makoto want to shoot himself in the head for the second time in the span of two days.

“You’re smiling,” Haruka tells him, breaking him out if his reverie.

 

Makoto’s smile disappears easily, replaced instead by a bashful frown as he turns away from the boy. He hadn’t even realized he had been smiling until the photographer pointed it out. What was even worse was the fact that the smile had been there because he had been thinking of the photographer’s blue eyes. “S-sorry,” he apologizes, feeling like he should probably apologize for being alive, too—like a certain bodyguard usually did.

Nanase lets his camera fall over his chest, as a small smile of his own took property of his lips. “No, it’s fine—I was just thinking it was odd, but it suits you.”

Tachibana feels his cheeks heat up almost instantly, and he ducks his head in hopes of hiding the obvious red spreading across his face. He has such an amazing ability to make a fool out of himself. “S-so should I keep smiling?”

“Only if you want to,” the photographer says, looking down at his camera as he skims through the photographs taken so far “What were you thinking about? While you smiled?”

(He will  _faint_. Makoto needs a soft surface to lay his head down.)

“Um—well, no-nothing imp-important!”

Ryou’s repressed laughter is  _not_  helping, and Makoto wants so badly to shuck something straight at his face—that little bastard—and of course Gou is trying her hardest not to burst in squeals. This was just too much for the poor brunet.

“Hmm, doesn’t look like nothing.” Haruka continues, not bothering to look up from his camera, but Tachibana can easily make out the small, smug smile in his lips.

Makoto fidgets in place “Shouldn’t we get this done with?”

Nanase lets out a short laugh through his nose, and nods “Sure thing—I’m only missing two more shots and we’ll wrap this up.”

Tachibana nods, relieved that they had moved off the topic once and for all. He asks what he should do for the last two shots, only to be greeted with Haruka’s quiet, thoughtful face looking at him—analyzing him.

(It sends shivers down his spine.)

“Laugh.”

“Ex-excuse me?”

The photographer smiles a little more openly now “Laugh about something—whatever, just laugh.”

Makoto wants to tell him there is nothing funny to laugh about, but the request itself is so out of the blue it literally sends him into a laughing fit. Everything else drowned out, Tachibana doubles over as laughter shakes his shoulders in tremors. He’s never been asked such a thing—and, fine, it seemed a much more nervous laugh than anything—but it felt  _good_.

Nanase was refreshing.

“And, we’re done.” Haruka announces, looking down at his camera again with studying eyes. “Want to see them?”

Once Tachibana regains from his previous fit, he straightens up—trying to catch his breath—and nods. “Would that be okay?”

The black haired man raises an amused eyebrow at him “Would I be asking you if it weren’t?”

Thinking the photographer made a valid point, Makoto walked over to where the other was standing, looking over the man’s shoulder and down at the camera in his hands. All of the shots were expertly taken, showing off Makoto in every single one of them. The laughing shots were even better—shot at the exact moment that they needed to be taken; they caught the green eyed man candidly laughing and doubling over.

They looked pretty natural.

“These are great” Makoto breaths out, awed.

“These were all you,” Nanase assures, pushing the off button and letting the camera hang around his neck again, and turning to look at the taller man “Thank you for coming today.”

Tachibana smiled, nodding eagerly “It was my pleasure—I had heard so many things about you I was very excited to finally get the chance to work with you.”

Before Haruka could say something else, Ryou’s voice broke through the air “Mako, we need to leave for your interview—I’m sorry Nanase, we’re running a bit late and my boss will probably have our heads if we don’t hurry.”

Stepping away from the model, the photographer nods “It can’t be helped then—I have to leave, too. It really was a pleasure to work with you today, Tachibana.”

The brunet smiles and, before he can stop himself, throws a careless “Call me Makoto” over his shoulder as he follows behind Sakurai, who keeps apologizing about having to rush him over and over, but Tachibana isn’t even  _listening_.

**—**

Makoto comes back home with a tired wrist, numb cheeks, and the second biggest headache in the history of headaches. After his photo-shoot with Nanase, he had had to run over to an interview at a radio station on the other side of town, where he was assaulted with uncomfortable questions he honestly didn’t want to answer. Later, he had had to stand outside of that same radio station and sign autograph upon autograph of screaming girls—and some guys, too.

As if that hadn’t been enough, Rei had been kind enough to remind him that he still had one more photo-shoot in location and two overly _boring_  meetings that stretched out over hours because that’s just how awful management is with him. He ended up leaving the place grumpy and really annoyed at everyone in the world, only to be scolded again by Kuroko on his way out.

He lets himself fall down on his apartment’s couch, and tries so hard not to go out and murder someone. Taiga’s face appears above him, a silly grin etched on his lips because he just  _knows_  Makoto is not in the mood for this. “Hey, Banana.”

Tachibana frowns, and brings his arms over his head to cover his eyes “Hey, Taiga…”

“Did you have fun today at the photo-shoot?” the red haired asks in a sing-song voice.

“Which one? The one I had in the morning, or the one in location?”

“Guess.”

“Why do you know this?” Makoto asks, peeking from below his own arm “Did you talk to Ryou?”

Kagami shakes his head and reaches down to pull his friend’s arm away from his face “There’s a delivery for you in the kitchen.”

Makoto pushes himself off the couch with renewed energy, and pushes past a laughing Taiga as he makes his way to the kitchen. Sitting innocently on their glass table, is a vase with the biggest flower bouquet he has ever gotten, a small white card sitting atop it. Souji is leaning over it, smiling mischievously at the seemingly meaningless postcard.

“What is that?” he asks, more than a little confused.

Seta steps away from the flowers, taking the card along for the ride “Mr. Tachibana,” he begins in an exaggeratedly loud voice “It may have been mistake number one to have let you go so early into our meeting. I hope we can see each other again in the future—perhaps not with a camera between us.” Souji waggles his eyebrows “Looks like someone has a  _fancy_  secret admirer!”

Taiga’s howling laughter filled the air behind him as Makoto stood frozen in place. It looked like his mind wasn’t processing the whole message in the card, and it took him a little while to think before he lunged forward and grabbed the white paper out of Souji’s hands. Green eyes scanned over the message a couple of times, before deeming it trustworthy enough and letting a grin take ahold of his features.

(There was no signature at the bottom, but the message—the part about the camera—gave the sender’s secret identity away.)

“The photographer is  _smitten_  with you,” Taiga drawls out, passing an arm around Makoto’s shoulders and shaking him “Makoto Tachibana, I am so  _proud_  of you.”

Souji agreed, turning around from where he was admiring the flowers to smirk proudly at his best friend “If it  _is_ him, of course.”

Before Tachibana had a chance to say anything, his phone buzzed in his pocket with a ringtone none of the other two recognized. Something in Makoto’s face changed immediately, as he fumbled to get his phone out and Taiga’s arm off of him. Scurrying away through the door, Makoto’s friends could only manage to hear the start of a conversation they wouldn’t be part of.

“Hey, Sousuke! I’m sorry I didn’t text you after this morning,” they heard the brunet apologize “I was so busy I am two seconds away from collapsing.”

—

 _“No problem at all,_ ” Sousuke tells him, and there’s shuffling in the other side of the line  _“I heard you on the radio today, though—those guys really need to learn something about not messing with someone’s private life”_

Makoto chuckles, although the memory of that day’s interview still makes him feel kind of squirmy “Yeah, but what could I do other than refuse to answer their questions?” he sat down on the edge of his bed, and sighed “It was a horrible day…”

Sousuke’s concerned hum makes his heart leap in joy  _“I’m sorry you had such an awful day—maybe I can make it up to you tomorrow?”_

It takes all of Tachibana’s will not to squeal out an eager yes “I’ll have to ask my manager, just in case he’s planning on overbooking me some more.”

 _“Was your manager very mad at you?”_  the other man asks.

Makoto makes a strange noise in the back of his throat, and then laughs at it “ _My_ manager, Rei, was just worried out of his mind—Kuroko was the one angry at me, and he’s more a  _part_  of the team than he is my manager.”

Sousuke hums in understanding—though Tachibana is fairly sure the black haired man didn’t understand a thing—and then laughs  _“I’m sorry, I got lost there—how many managers do you have?”_

“Well,” the brunet begins, letting himself fall down on his mattress “I only have  _one_ manager, who has people working for him—who are my management team plus a guy who serves as baby sitter and body guard.”

 _“I think I got it this time,”_  Sousuke laughs again, and there’s a faint sound of something in the background that Makoto can’t place  _“There’s a management team, that work for your actual manager, who’s basically everyone’s boss?_ ” Tachibana laughs at his explanation  _“I’m trying here! I should probably meet this management team, or something”_

The model doesn’t think it would be a great idea, considering Sousuke is basically the root of all of the company’s troubles with him—sort of, kind of; he’d have to ask Nagisa about that—and Kuroko is already pissed off at him as it is “What if you just settle for, one day, meeting my co-workers?”

 _“You mean the guy who screamed at you through the phone?”_  there’s an evident amusement in Yamazaki’s voice  _“Are there more than one of those?”_

Makoto chuckles “Well, I  _have_  more than one co-worker, but they’re not all like Taiga” he explains, looking at the ceiling “There’s also Souji, and Ai, and Kise, sometimes Rise—I work with a lot of people.”

The black haired man hums on the other side of the line  _“You seem to like your job a lot.”_

“I guess I do,” in all honesty, he’s never thought about it “I mean, I’ve met a lot of people thanks to my job and—despite what anyone else says—having fans is not all that  _bad_ ” he chuckles a little, reaching out to grab a pillow and bringing it behind his head “Of course,  _you’d_ know about that.”

 _“Would I, now?”_  Yamazaki likes teasing, Makoto has realized, and he is very much teasing right now  _“How long did it take you to realize who I was? Was it while you were sitting on my bed, eating the breakfast I prepared? Or was it much later?”_

Tachibana scrunched up his nose—a habit he had picked from this one actress he had met a while back—and laughed “Much,  _much_  later. As in, I realized  _way_  later, when Souji pointed it out at dinner.”

Sousuke’s laugh vibrated through the phone and it made Makoto’s inside all queasy.  _“Can I say I feel a little wounded about that?”_

“Be my guest.”

 _“Then—wow, I’m wounded you didn’t know who I was—am I that bad at soccer?_ ”

Makoto thinks he wouldn’t know, anyway, but answers either way “Souji says you’re pretty good at it, so I’ll take his word.”

 _“Souji, Souji? Why does that name ring a bell?”_  Sousuke thought for a moment—at least Makoto thinks he was thinking—before he let out a triumphant ‘hah’  _“Souji Seta? Guy with grey hair and silver eyes? Kind of weird sometimes—well, most of the time.”_

“That is precisely who Souji Seta is.” The model can’t avoid the laugh that bubbles up his chest and he turns to muffle it in the pillow “He told me you guys played soccer in high school?”

Sousuke makes a sound of affirmation  _“Yeah, before he went and made himself a model, actually. He was very good at it—although basketball was more his thing.”_

Basketball? Souji’s thing? “Are you sure we’re talking about the same Souji Seta I know?”

 _“How many grey haired, silver eyed, weird guys do **you**  know?” _Sousuke laughs _“Because my list only extends to a small piece of paper with Souji’s name written on big, bold letters.”_

The model laughs again, not bothering to muffle it in the pillow like last time “I’m just not sure you’ve got the right Souji. He’s always shown distaste for basketball since Taiga and I have known him—which obviously pisses the hell out of Taiga, because he is the biggest basketball junkie to have ever existed.”

 _“I have a friend like that, too_ ” Yamazaki muses  _“He plays for the NBA, but we’re on good terms.”_

They spend the rest of the night talking back and forth about their respective lives. Makoto confesses he knows next to nothing about soccer and Sousuke promises to coach him when he has the chance. In turn, Sousuke makes him promise to take him to one of his photo-shoots, because he wants to know just  _what_  goes on behind the scenes. Their phone call extends to more than two hours and Tachibana kind of forgets another guy sent him flowers that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, again, I'm really sorry about being a day late! I feel horrible about it!


	5. details, sakurai--minor details

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rin should not be allowed to give out love advice, Rei delivers great news, and there's a conspiration so Makoto can go on his date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why are some chapters shorter than others? I thought I cut them so they all were the same lenght. 
> 
> My life is hard. 
> 
> Anyway! I love this chapter, for obvious reasons! Next chapter (WHICH I AM WRITTING. WHY ARE WEEKS FLYING BY SO FAST?) is going to be so much better and y'all will love it! 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

**CHAPTER V**

 

“What do you mean you don’t know what to do?”

 

Makoto sighed, taking a sip of his lemonade as he tried his hardest to look offended “Now I know why Ai told me to stop coming to you for advice.”

 

Rin huffed, turning away as he leaned back into his chair “What does _he_ know about my good advice?”

 

Besides him, Ryou spoke up “He _is_ your boyfriend.” And then apologized for being so disrespectful.

 

Matsuoka waved the body guard off “Details, Sakurai—minor details.” Then, turning to his best friend, added “Why is the apologetic mushroom here?” he turns back to the smaller brunet and smiles “No offense—I just thought we’d be having a _private_ conversation?”

 

Sakurai frowns “I’m sorry about disrupting you, Matsuoka.” He bows slightly, to which Makoto insists that it is not necessary to apologize to Rin “Kuroko asked me to follow Tachibana around until things settled.”

 

Rin barked out a laugh “What? Does your manager _really_ think you’ll sprint away and escape with this new man of yours?” then, in a whisper, he adds “Oh, whoops, I meant— _men_ of yours.”

 

Makoto wants to hit the red haired over the head, because—“Ryou! Don’t laugh!”

 

“Sorry! I’m so sorry, Makoto!” the body guard apologizes, over and over, but it’s obvious he doesn’t even mean it—he keeps laughing silently into his right hand.

 

(Apparently, everyone finds Matsuoka _hilarious_. Makoto is beginning to hate his childhood friend.)

 

“Rin, can you take me seriously for a second here?” the model pleads, putting down his lemonade to stare at the swimming instructor with as much rage as he can muster.

 

The red haired man laughs shortly and nods “Okay, fine—I’m sorry, Makoto. I’ll listen to you.”

 

Makoto waits a second—trying to see if this is some kind of ruse or not—and when his best friend only continues to stare at him expectantly, he deems the moment perfect to continue. “Look, I just want to know what I _have_ to do,” he begins “I honestly think I like them both, but I-I don’t really _know_.”

 

Rin sighed, finally serious “You know what’s my position on these things,” Makoto groans because coming to Matsuoka is, and will always be a horrible idea “No, Tachibana, don’t groan at me! I’m trying to be helpful here!” Crossing his arms angrily over his chest, the red haired continues “I can’t tell you what you have to do, and you know it. What if I end up choosing the guy you didn’t want to be with?”

 

“That’s the thing,” Tachibana insists “I don’t know if I like either of them? I mean, they’ve been both so very nice with me—Sousuke made me _breakfast_ after a one-night stand neither of us remember; Nanase _probably_ sent me flowers to my apartment, hoping we could see each other again.”

 

The swimming instructor laughed “How long since you’ve known them both, again?”

 

Sakurai pointed a finger at Makoto, the expression on his face clearly telling him he agreed with the other man “Matsuoka is right about that.”

 

One—unsually—hard look from green eyes and Ryou was sent into a spluttering mess of apologies.

 

(It did make Makoto feel a little bit bad. But only a little. Ryou and Rin were ganging up on him.)

 

“Don’t take it on the poor mushroom!” Rin accused, leaning forward to slap Tachibana’s shoulder playfully—the model didn’t appreciate it. “Look, what I’m trying to say here is: get to know them better. Talk to them on the phone, text them—communication will save you a _lot_ of troubles.”

 

“Because _you_ of all people can tell me that,” Makoto huffed, crossing his arms over his chest tightly and looking to the side—all pouty lips and furrowed brows.

 

(Things he’s learned from his body guard, excuse him.)

 

Matsuoka looks scandalized for a moment, before he leaned over the table again, this time aiming for his best friend’s brunet head. The model jolted at the contact and jerked away from the other male, swatting an arm back at him like a little kid would to another.

 

Rin only let himself fall back down unto his chair, frowning noticeably as he took his drink in his hands and took a sip from it. Childishly, the brunet stuck his tongue out at the other, gaining him a low growl and sharp teeth directed at him.

 

Sakurai doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen Makoto so _relaxed_ and it’s good he’s here to see it. Somehow, the light brunet thinks this might be the last he’ll see of the old Tachibana in the future days to come.

 

\--

_Talk to them. Text them._

That had been Rin’s only advice before both of them headed to the pool and forgot about everything. Matsuoka was Makoto’s defense mechanism—if he’d wanted to rid himself of worry, he’d go to his friend, discuss his worries and then just let them slip away in the water. It was a nice feeling and he was glad to have the swim instructor as his friend.

 

(No matter how much he laughed at his troubles.)

 

Before he could, however, think about texting either of the black haired men, his manager made an appearance.

 

(His _actual_ manager.)

 

“Makoto! It’s good I get to catch you today!” Rei greets, a bunch of papers piled in his arms “Could you help me out with these? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you, if it was possible.”

 

Tachibana didn’t know how he could possibly refuse any sort of talk his manager wanted to have with him, but fine, he’d go with it. Plastering a smile on his face, he nodded as he reached down to grab the papers off the man’s hands.

 

Sighing gratefully, Ryugazaki beamed at the model “You’re very kind, Makoto.”

 

“It’s not a problem, Rei.” He answers, good-natured. The brunet doesn’t hold it against his manager, really—although he _might_ be bitter about getting overbooked this week—so he just smiles all the while and tries to help the other man out. He knows how much pressure there is on him.

 

They make it to his office in record time—Makoto doesn’t know if it was him who was hurried, or Ryugazaki himself—and the glasses wearing man invites him to sit down on one of the chairs in his office. It gives Tachibana a queasy feeling in his stomach, and he only hopes Rei isn’t about to fire him, or something of the sort—he doesn’t think he could take _that_.

 

“Don’t look so tense, Makoto.” The manager smiled easily at him, sitting down on the other side of the desk “I’m not here to scold you or tell you Kuroko has overbooked you again—I don’t want to make you more stressed than you already are.”

 

The model nods along, slowly as if he’s trying to process the exact words that are being put before him. Rei seems odd—in the good-sense of the word—and it gives Makoto chills “I guess I have been a bit wary of that,” he laughs a bit, trying to ease the tension on his shoulders “I’m glad it’s not overbooking again.”

 

Ryugazaki pushes his glasses up his nose—a gesture everyone has been mocking since day one, but that Tachibana finds endearing—and laughs along with his employee “I have really big news for you, Makoto—I think you’ll be very happy to hear them.” He stops then, takes one look at wide green eyes, and continues “I got a call from a movie director—he told me he’d like you to participate in an upcoming project of his.”

 

Makoto feels like all air has been taken away from his lungs, and he has to remind himself that human beings need to _breath_. There’s a sharp intake of breath on his part, as he leans forward to look at Rei’s face a little more carefully “Are you kidding?”

 

(He knows his manager is not one for joking, but he feels the need to ask this.)

 

“That would be nonsensical,” Rei states—and it’s just so _Rei_ and Makoto feels like jumping and kissing the man. “I got the call this morning.”

 

(The model refrains, of course, because he doesn’t want Nagisa screaming bloody murder at him.)

 

Tachibana, instead, jumps up from his place and starts pacing around the room, looking equal parts extremely happy and mortified. He mutters a couple of things under his breath—something about getting prepared, and other meaningless things that don’t make much sense together—and he’s so _excited_ right now that he almost looks over the butterflies in his stomach.

 

“Now,” Ryugazaki snaps him from his daze “I know you’re excited, but we have to talk about this and decide the better course of action.”

 

Makoto nods—he just nods, because he’s so _excited_ and he can’t even begin to believe this is happening.

 

\--

 

“You got a _what_?” Taiga doesn’t think he’s heard right.

 

Makoto’s smile widens noticeably as he sets his hand over his friend’s shoulder “I got a _movie_ offer! Like, to star in a _movie_! As in to be an _actor_!”

 

(Souji kind of knows it may not be that simple, but Tachibana is so damn _happy_. Screw not simple, his best friend is positively beaming.)

 

Kagami’s confused frown breaks into a grin, and he wraps his arms tight around Makoto, lifting him up in the air in pure, innocent _glee_. He screams at the top of his lungs about how his best friend got an acting role and how they should party hard tonight because these are news to celebrate—but, he is quick to add, no going out to bars until the kidnap scare has worn off, of course.

 

Tachibana simply tells him that he wasn’t _kidnapped_ and just holds on tighter to Taiga’s shoulders, not having a single care in the world at how _bad_ this must seem to an outsider. Seta thanks the gods they’re all indoors, in the safety of their apartment, and is soon to join in to their moment of joy.

 

The red haired model grabs Souji too, and lifts him up with as much ease as he did with the other model. It’s the first time Seta thinks he doesn’t mind one bit, and he lets himself be carried in stronger arms for as much as the other man wants.

 

“Makoto is starring in a movie!” Kagami yells again, laughing so loudly it hurts the other two’s ears—although it doesn’t, it just makes them happier.

 

(Ryou thinks, as he looks from the sidelines, that maybe he had been wrong about not seeing relaxed Makoto again.

 

He’s grateful for that.)

 

\--

 

Kuroko knows this is just a tactic to get him to _soften_ —and he must admit, it is working—but he can’t help but feel a little annoyed at his boyfriend.

 

He knew Taiga loved him—not _thought_ ; **knew** —but it was a well-known fact he was eternally loyal to his friends. The red haired man was always looking out for the other two models, helping them out and caring for them when no one else did. The three top models at Future Fish had a tight bond—something good in their career—and the management team had had enough of their troubles to last them an eternity.

 

“You are not fooling anyone, you know?” Testuya hummed against his boyfriend’s neck, where he was currently hiding “You are doing this for Makoto.”

 

Taiga makes a sound on the back of his throat, and laughs a little because the manager is right. Tightening his hold around the smaller man, he delivers a soft kiss at the top of his hair and mumbles “I’m sorry—he really wants to go on that date with the soccer player,” then, as an after thoughts, he adds “You should let him…”

 

Kuroko sighs, and nuzzles closer to his boyfriend. Quiet evenings like this have been seldom recently—they both have jobs, and there’s that pesky work-ethic that basically forces them to keep all affections at home. The manager isn’t risking his well-earned position by breaking such a silly rule like that one.

 

“I was going to let him,” the smaller man smiled softly, lacing his fingers with the longer ones “I’m not heartless, you know? I just have to keep you guys in line.”

 

Kagami tries not to smile the biggest smile he has, but he fails and just attempts to hide it in the blue tresses. The model is happy to have his boyfriend around again, even if it’s just for a little while, and he cherishes every single moment before he has to leave in the morning again.

“Can you cook dinner for me tonight?” Testuya mumbles, as if half-asleep.

 

Another smile crosses the red haired’s lips, as he pushes his boyfriend gently off his lap so he can stand up. The manager makes a distressed sound at the back of his throat, but let’s the other move him either way—he _was_ the one who asked for dinner, even at the cost of having to move. They make their way to the kitchen, where Kuroko sits again and Taiga begins the task of making dinner.

 

(He’s slightly taken aback when he opens the fridge and finds it virtually _empty_ , but he figures these last few weeks have been as stressful for his boyfriend as they have been for his best friend and co-worker.)

 

\--

 

Makoto doesn’t stop to breathe for even a second, and Souji asks himself if the time has come to step in like the older brother he is.

 

The brunet model comes and goes from his bedroom and bathroom, bringing things and dropping off others in every different trek he makes. It would be absolutely hilarious if it didn’t hurt Seta to actually _see_ it. His best friend has never been one to organize properly, and now he’s rushing to and fro around the whole apartment like a blind man.

 

(He’s hit himself more than several times in the low tables and other furniture—Souji hopes there are no bruises.)

 

“Makoto,” he calls out from his place in the couch, as he watches the brunet go back into his room and give a half-assed answer over his shoulder. “You look _fine_ already. Would you stop that?”

 

(There’s a mumble of something Seta can’t quite make out, but it sounds suspiciously like a curse over his and Yosuke’s relationship—something that he really does _not_ appreciate; thank you very much.)

 

“I’m serious,” he tries again, muting the TV in the process “Yamazaki could not have asked for a better man to date—apart from your horrible fashion sense, you’re a _delight_.”

 

Tachibana actually _squeaks_ , and it would surprise Souji if it didn’t make him laugh so much “Are my clothes okay?” the brunet calls out from inside the bathroom—when did he even _move_?—and then there’s something falling.

 

“Are _you_ okay?” Seta manages to get his _giggling_ over control in time to push himself off the couch and make his way to the bathroom.

 

There’s a shuffling sound inside as he approaches, and when he pokes his head inside, Makoto is trying to get the medicine cabinet under control again. Souji smiles—albeit a bit sadly—and he shooshes him away with a wave of his hand.

 

“Get out of here,” Seta commands, pushing the taller man over under the threshold and out into the hallway again “You are ready, you look good in those clothes and you _will_ wait for your date in the couch like a good boy would, understood?”

 

(He’s never had to use this voice on Tachibana—well, there’s a first for everything.)

 

Makoto stares at him like he has grown a second head, until realization dawns on him and he nods firmly. He attempt a calmed smile at his friend, but Souji can see _right_ through it. “Just _go_ and sit on the couch, drink some water and calm _down_.”

 

And Tachibana _does_ , because Seta is almost always right, and he’s a hundred percent sure this time is _no_ exception. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *is afraid because you guys are catching up to me in chapters written and chapters uploaded* 
> 
> SEND HELP.


	6. should he be worried about that squeak just now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Souji and Sousuke are a little gay for each other, Makoto has his first date ever, and the puzzle pieces of this game are beginning to fall into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s chapter six, for all of you beautiful people!   
> I am very excited about this one because I am quite proud of how it came out (pluusssss, SouMako date, babes!) This is the turning point of absolutely everything, so expect drama on the next chapter.   
> Also, I might not update next week, because chapter seven isn’t finished and I dunno if I’ll be able to finish ti with my partial exams this week. I hope you guys can be patient with me <3   
> Hope y’all enjoy!

Sousuke is  _nervous_.

Sousuke  _is_  nervous.

_Sousuke_  is nervous.

He takes a deep breath while he is riding in the elevator, and he tries his hardest not to burst out crying in the middle of it. The soccer player has never been  _this_  nervous about anything in his life—except, perhaps, the time he got scouted—and he wants to  _laugh_  at himself for being nervous over a simple date.

 

(And it’s not like it’s even their  _first_  date, if the night they shared together actually meant something—never mind neither of them can remember it.)

Yamazaki follows the instructions given by the brunet on a text message, turning here and there, left and right, until he’s face to face with the door number he was told. He brings up a fisted hand and finally  _knocks_.

—

“Coming!”

Makoto shoots up from his place, dusting imaginary particles off his clothes and rushing over to the door. He takes in a deep breath—at Souji’s command coming from the couch—and reaches over to finally open the door.

Sousuke is standing at the other side, and if Makoto thought he looked like a piece of artwork last time he saw him—wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt—he’s pretty sure Yamazaki is some kind of  _god_. He’s wearing a button up shirt and a dress jacket on top—and if Tachibana didn’t admit he was the most gorgeous human being to have graced this planet, then he couldn’t die in peace.

“Looking good, Tachibana”

(And of  _course_  that would make Makoto blush up to the tip of his ears.)

“Th-thanks,” he stumbled over his words, fiddling with the sleeve of his sweater “You—well, you look good too…”

Yamazaki grinned, finally regaining some of his cool as Makoto’s face turned beet red. Although there was still a small fluttering in his stomach, the model’s obvious nerves made him feel a little more at ease—knowing he wasn’t the only one to feel iffy about the whole date thing made him feel calmer and more confident.

“Now that’s a record,” comes Seta’s amused voice from the couch, and Sousuke has to look over Makoto’s shoulder in order to find the source of that voice.

The moment Caribbean blue eyes settle upon grey hair and a smirk, Yamazaki’s whole form relaxes.  _This_  is a familiar face—this is Souji Seta, the guy he used to play soccer with—and it makes him feel a whole lot less nervous than before. Tachibana side-steps, admiring the way Sousuke’s lips tug up into a smile, and lets the taller male walk into their apartment.

Souji is up on his feet in no time, and he walks the short distance to meet the soccer player halfway “No one has ever been able to make Mako blush  _that_  fast,” he says, throwing his arms around the bigger man and hugging—hard “Man, you’re bigger than in TV—what on earth do they feed soccer players?”

Yamazaki wraps steady arms around his old friend and laughs “We eat soccer balls religiously—have you never heard they have great nutritional values?”

Makoto watched off to one side, smiling softly at the way both men seem such at ease. Souji has always been a closed off person—ever since Taiga and Makoto pulled him into their little circus—and it’s hard to get him to open up. It took Kagami and Tachibana’s joint efforts almost a  _year_  to get Seta to laugh at one of their jokes—Sousuke managed it in less than a second.

“I cannot believe you went off and got yourself scouted,” Souji says, pulling away from the other man, smiling “You look amazing in the Japanese jersey, you little bastard.”

Yamazki laughs again “I would say you look amazing in your magazine cover photos, but I  _am_ about to take your friend out on a date and that would be inappropriate”

Tachibana snorts, shaking his head “Why don’t you guys go on ahead and go on this date together?”

Seta hums,  _actually_  considering it “Do you think Yosuke would be very mad?”

“I think he’d murder you, yes.”

“Ah, pity. Seems like you’ll still have to take my best friend out instead of me.”

Sousuke makes a distressed sound “Oh what a torture that would be.”

Makoto scrunches up his nose—trying so hard to not let his confidence get trampled over—and reaches over to take Sousuke’s hand in his “I’m sorry you’ll have to settle for less attractive me, but can we go now? I’m kind of starving.”

Yamazaki nods, tightening his hold around the other’s hand, and turns to bid farewell “It was good to see you again, Souji—I’m glad you’re doing good.”

Seta nods, too, retreating back to the couch and flopping over it unceremoniously “I’m glad you’re okay, too, Sousuke—have fun tonight on your date.”

The brunet model hums approvingly and pulls on his hold on Sousuke’s hand, willing the other man to move. Yamazaki smiles softly and follows after his date, feeling the butterflies catching up to him again. He gets used to the feeling, and resigns himself to it, because there’s no way Tachibana will ever make him feel any differently than this.

“Hey, Sousuke?” Souji speaks up again, stopping both men on their tracks “That’s my best friend’s hand you’re holding right now, okay? Just remember that before you think about breaking his heart.”

(Makoto is flattered—although a little embarrassed—and realizes he has no reason to worry about Souji.)

—

“I  _am_  a bit weary about bringing people to my apartment on the first date,” Sousuke admits, pushing his key inside and opening the door to let Makoto inside “But you have already been here, so there’s no secret.”

Tachibana walks inside, a little surprised about finding himself back in the spacious apartment he awoke in less than a week ago. He thought he wouldn’t be seeing much of it until much later, but he figures Yamazaki is full of surprises, and he’s not about to complain about that.

The place is dimly lit, a round table set next to the kitchen area, and lavishly decorated with candles and a center bouquet that Makoto spends too much time looking at. There’s a delicious scent of food wafting through the air and the model notices only now how hungry he really is. The place looks much better in this light, he decides, as he steps forward to admire the work done.

“Y-you did all this?” the brunet stutters, staring at the display with wide eyes.

Yamazaki looks momentarily embarrassed, and he turns away from his date, busying himself with something on the kitchen counter “Your manager asked for private, right? What’s more private than my apartment?”

Tachibana is touched—really,  _really_  touched—and he smiles, tempted to go wrap his arms around Sousuke’s torso “I like it very much,” he admits, repressing his urges and leaning next to where the soccer player is trying to appear nonchalant. “Thank you.”

Sousuke remains quiet for a bit, fiddling with his fingers in an uncharacteristically display of nerves. With a small smile, Makoto reaches for the larger hands and settles his own on top of them, effectively stopping their movements. The dark haired man looks up to lock eyes with the model, and feels himself melt into a puddle at the brunet’s feet.

“You need to stop that,” the soccer player pleads, averting his eyes once more.

Tachibana looks a bit taken aback, as he withdraws his hands and takes a cautionary step back. Yamazaki’s tone of voice is a bit harsh and he briefly wonders if he has done something wrong—if he has crossed some kind of boundary he didn’t know existed. “I’m sorry?” he attempts, feebly.

Which is when Sousuke laughs, albeit a bit nervous at first, and then a bit more confident as a few seconds go by. The model squints confused at the other, trying so hard to puzzle the whole thing together, before Yamazaki’s hands are on top if his and the other man is bringing him closer.

“I mean smiling like that to me,” The soccer player mumbles, smiling goofily at the brunet “You’ll make me faint at this rate.”

(Makoto didn’t know his voice could reach such high octaves—should he be worried about that squeak just now?)

Unintelligent words come tumbling out of Tachibana’s mouth like wild fire, and he’s a sputtering mess of  _nothing_  and everything at the same time in no amount of time. Sousuke begins to think it’s adorable, but decides he really has to stop the other from talking before he chokes on his own spit or—even worse—faints in the middle of their date.

The soccer player smooths a thumb over Makoto’s inside wrist and smiles softly, hoping to ease the other man back into normalcy. Gradually, it begins to work, and Tachibana stops spewing nonsense—there’s still some color in his cheeks, but it’s not as bad as it was a few seconds prior.

“I’m sorry,” Sousuke says, smiling softly as he manages to catch green eyes again “Should we sit down?”

Makoto  _really_  needs to sit down.

—

Tachibana leans back on his chair, draping a lazy arm over his belly as the last vestiges of a chuckle find their way out of his mouth.

They’ve been laughing non-stop for a whole ten minutes now, joke after joke being shared between them in short gasps and shaking voices. Makoto doesn’t think he’s ever tasted anything more delicious in his entire life—except for Taiga’s pancakes, he guesses—and he’s having the most fun he’s had had since a long time.

(He doesn’t want the night to end.)

“It’s getting pretty late,” Sousuke comments idly, looking at the microwave watch, glaring at him from across the kitchen. “Maybe I should drop you off back home.”

(The model wants to stay.)

“I guess it is pretty late,” the brunet says, smiling softly as he eyes the clock himself.

(‘Maybe I should stay?’)

Yamazaki grins, pushing himself off the chair with a dramatic groan and stretching his arms above his head—like a giant cat, Makoto think—before looking back at his date “Should we head off now?”

(‘We could stay here for a while more.’)

“Sure! Souji will probably get nervous if I don’t arrive home soon.”

(‘I don’t think he’ll mind having the apartment for himself.’)

Sousuke picks up the last vestiges of their dinner, and leaves them tacked next to the sink. Tachibana notices just then how  _neat_  the other man is, and he can’t avoid the smile that takes a hold of his lips. The owner of the apartment looks around himself one last time, as if assessing just what else must be put in its place, and, when his eyes finally settle on his date, he smiles.

“Shall we?”

(‘No.’)

“We shall.”

—

The air is particularly cool that night, and Sousuke offers him his jacket like the gentleman he is. It smells purely of the soccer player—a mixture between the man’s favorite cologne, and the detergent he uses to wash his clothes. It’s comforting and pleasing to the model, and he wishes he could keep this jacket  _forever_.

“How’s it like?” Yamazaki breaks the silence that’s stretched around them, and it takes the brunet a bit off guard.

“What’s what like?” Makoto asks, cocking his head to one side in confusion.

The soccer player lets out a soft laugh, his breath coming out in small clouds that look like smoke against the night. “The whole model thing—what’s it like?”

It takes Tachibana a little while to think of the question—mulls it over like he should give Sousuke the ultimate answer of life, the universe and everything—but he doesn’t come up with much. “I guess it’s fun? Depends on who you’re asking.” 

“I’m asking you.”

And Makoto realizes he’s going to have to think about it. There’s many things he likes about his job—the people he works with, the good photographers, the fans who cherish his mere existence—and a lot others that he doesn’t like very much. The pressure is a little bit too much sometimes, and you have to act like a perfect human being unless you want a scandal in your hands. His boss isn’t all that nice either—though Rei, Nagisa and Kuroko mostly make up for it with kind words and soft smiles—and, if he had the chance, he would go all out and get something bigger for himself.

(Like that acting gig Rei graced upon him—but he doesn’t want to jinx it.)

“I like my job,” he finally tells the other male, smiling up at him with big green eyes “I met my best friends there—the people who’s been there for me through ups and downs—and I’ve learned so much of the world.” Sousuke makes a small sound of approval in the back of his throat, looks down at Makoto with pure admiration. “There are hardships, like in any other job, but you realize they’re all worth it—especially when you’re doing what you love, what you’re passionate about.”

Yamazaki decides he very much likes that passion his date is talking about—especially when his date is the one wearing it with so much  _ease_ —and wishes to keep Makoto that way forever. Bright green eyes, that peaceful smile, and Tachibana is slowly becoming the epitome of perfection.

“What about your job? What’s being a professional soccer player like?”

It’s a valid question—something personal in exchange for something personal, the dark haired man muses—and it doesn’t take him long to answer.

“It’s an exhilarating job,” he says, pushing his hands inside his pant pockets to keep them warm until they arrive at the model’s apartment “It becomes your whole life, too—you’re permanently known as the guy who plays in your position; the guy with  _that_ number on his back; the guy with n number of goals scored in the tournament—and it’s overwhelming to have so many people  _believe_  in you and the rest of the team.”

(Japanese national team player. Right,  _right_. Makoto continues to forget.)

“But it’s nice,” Sousuke continues, grinning “It’s what I like to do, so there’s no harm done.”

“Well,” Tachibana says, leaning closer to the other man with a smile on his face “Unless you also have rabid fangirls— _those_  might just damage you some.”

Yamazaki chuckles, letting his head roll back on his shoulders “There  _are_  some rabid fangirls—but I also really resemble a wall, so there’s no need to worry about them.”

“Don’t you have bodyguards?”

Sousuke shrugs “I did once, but my coach gave up on sending guys after me—now I have to fend for myself.”

Makoto lets out a soft laugh, hiding his smile behind his hand—the jacket gets in the way a bit; it seems Sousuke has longer arms than Tachibana. “Lucky you, I guess.”

“You  _guess_?” Yamazaki smiles at his date “Why do you  _guess_?”

The model scrunches up his nose—Sousuke thinks that’s  _adorable_ , excuse you—and laughs “Ever seen photographs of me taken on the street?”

Sousuke nods.

(Although he can’t guess what that question’s about.)

“Have you  _ever_  noticed this small, brunet guy in any of the pictures?”

“I’ve never paid much attention to them, honestly.”

(Bullshit. He’s been crushing on Tachibana since  _forever_.)

Makoto laughs again, shaking his head “Well, if you ever do manage to catch a glimpse of him,” he says, teasingly “That’s Ryou—he’s my bodyguard.” There’s a pause, in which Tachibana looks a little lost, as if he’s trying to find the words to say “I’m blessed to have him, honestly. If it were anyone else, I don’t think I could take it.”

(Sousuke thinks the name Ryou kind of rings a bell, but he can’t quite put his finger on such a general name.)

“Sometimes I wish he didn’t have to follow me around all the time though,” the model looks at the ground, finding it far more interesting than his date’s blue eyes “I know it’s Future Fish policy, but I wish I could go have a coffee with my best friend without having someone looming over us.”

Yamazaki hums in agreement, directing his attention back to the paved road before him “I hated having people going after me—I didn’t need it either,” he shrugs nonchalantly “Have you tried asking them to remove your body guard?”

Makoto groans, nodding along “Several times—they refuse to listen to me.” He takes in a deep breath, and lets it out slowly “I also can’t say no to Ryou. He worries about me, and I can’t stop him from doing that anymore.”

Sousuke thinks the model has a lot of friends, which is unheard of in his career, but he figures it all comes with the charm. Tachibana is a nice guy, all appeasing smiles and caring words, and there’s no doubt people are naturally drawn to him—something the soccer player adores and envies at the same time. There’s something about Makoto that just seems to magnetize everyone that comes his way.

The dark haired man doesn’t know how good or how bad that could be just yet.

—

They make it to the apartment complex in less than an hour.

Makoto wanted to walk back to his apartment—something that struck Yamazaki as odd until the point the other model said he wanted to spend a little more time with him—and, since they live in opposite sides of town, it took them a while to finally get there. Thankfully, they weren’t spotted by anyone, and the road back to the model’s apartment was actually pretty peaceful.

(What can you expect at eleven o’clock? Constant traffic? I don’t think so.)

“So,” Sousuke says, pulling the complex door open for Makoto to walk inside “here we are.”

Tachibana nods, already on the other side of the threshold, and leans against the door frame “I had a lot of fun tonight, Sousuke” he says, smiling brightly “I hope we can do this again?”

Yamazaki nods—maybe a little too fervently—and leans against the door he is holding open “We can do this whenever you want, Mister Model” he smiles, confidently “Just give me a call and we’ll set up another date.”

(Makoto wants to reach forward and kiss him—he wants to so bad—but refrains.)

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says instead “Goodnight, Sousuke.”

“Until tomorrow, then.”

Tachibana finds the sentence familiar, but can’t quite place it—laughing, he retreats into the lobby, waving a shy hand at his date “Rest well tonight, okay? And text me when you get home safe and sound.”

The soccer player nods a few times, grinning goofily “I will.”

And they stay another couple of minutes, saying goodbye when they really didn’t want to. 


	7. there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for that dork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The golden trio is gayer than they seem, Makoto's nightmare begins, and maybe the author is a tiny bit masochistic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay, I'm awful this is a week late
> 
> Next chapter will probably by up in two weeks too, so sorry about that :c High school's getting busier and I have to organize myself properly!
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

“Someone looks like they had _fun_ yesterday!”

Taiga’s voice is hard to miss, especially in the wee hours of the morning when everything seems kind of hazy. Souji automatically winces away from the sound, smiling around the spoonful of cereal he is busy eating at the couch. The third member of their little makeshift family looks more than just a little embarrassed, as he makes his way through the living room to sit next to his gray haired friend.

“I did have a lot of fun yesterday, yes” Makoto admits, looking forward with a dopey grin in his face, before leaning towards Seta and flopping down into his lap “He cooked for me, Souji.”

Seta huffs, raising his bowl of cereal up in the air to spare it from certain doom, and looks down at his brunet friend “He did?”

Tachibana nods, snuggling into Souji’s abdomen because he can and he is feeling really affectionate this morning.

The gray haired model only sighs, putting his cereal bowl off to one side, before setting his hand on brunet locks of hair, and carding slender fingers through them. His friend only hums appreciatively, smiling against the soft fabric of the other’s t-shirt. Sera thinks this is the happiest he’s seen the model since a very long time, and it warms his heart like nothing else ever has.

“I want Souji to play with _my_ hair too!” Kagami whines, coming up behind the couch to drape himself over the gray haired model like some kind of lazy cat.

(Lazy, _fat_ cat.)

“Taiga,” Seta warns--and that is _not_ the way his neck should be folding “Get off of me—you’re crushing my neck.”

With a whine and a theatrical groan, the red haired model pushed himself off his friend “How can you be so mean and heartless? I just want _love_.”

Souji let his head fall back against the backseat, looking at the other’s form upside down “You got enough love yesterday night, Taiga—don’t be a baby.”

Like an excited puppy, Makoto shoots up from his place on Souji’s lap and grins like an idiot “You saw Tetsuya yesterday?” he asks, leaning forward to stare at Taiga more closely. 

The red haired model frowns, and turns away in hopes of hiding the subtle pink that’s dusting his cheeks. “I told you yesterday before leaving,” he makes an annoyed sound, passing a hand through dark locks of red “I swear, you guys don’t pay enough attention to me.”

Tachibana beams at him, hoping to soften the blow a little “I appreciate what you did for me—if you hadn’t talked to him yesterday, Kuroko would’ve never let me go on that date.”

Taiga rolls his eyes, smiling softly “It’s no problem,” he says—and it really isn’t, because Makoto is his friend and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for that dork. “Though I _am_ going to need some clarification of those grateful feelings.”

“Come here, you big baby”

Excited, the red haired model jumps over the back of the couch, landing ungracefully on the other side of Souji. Makoto moves from his place, crawling over Seta so that he can sit between the other two. The grey haired man lets out a huff of discontent—mainly because now he can’t finish his cereal—and pushes Tachibana off of him. 

“You guys are ridiculous,” Souji tells them, with no trace of shame or regret.

Taiga shrugs his shoulders, leaning down to Makoto’s lap and propping his legs up in the arm rest. The brunet hums pleasantly, lettings his hands wander the other’s darker hair and just looking completely happy with himself and the world.

Seta stares at them both. He’s never quite gotten how their friendship ever got so close, or how they’ve gotten to be so comfortable with one another—and it’s still a little foreign for him—but he admires it; loves the way they’re so tranquil in each other’s presence. It’s odd, and more than a little weird, but he’s learned to _understand_ and to adore every second of it. 

“Souji?” Makoto’s voice finally breaks him out of his reverie and, when he turns to look up at his eyes, the man has an open arm—expecting.

Seta gives in, slowly accommodating himself under the brunet’s arm, and sighs “You guys are really, really _ridiculous_.”

(And, this time, he includes himself.)

\--

“Why are we going back again?”

Ryou swerves to the right dangerously, trying to avoid a crazy guy who’s probably late for work already, and apologizes profusely to the model on the passenger seat. Tachibana laughs nervously, tightening his hold around the seat belt he is wearing. They are running late to work themselves—and Sakurai is doing their best to get them there on time—but Makoto would rather be twenty minutes late than get killed in traffic.

“You have to pick the photographs they’ll use for the magazine,” Sakurai reminds him, pouting at the man who just cut him in line—Makoto can see him slowly acquiring his other personality.

Tachibana arched an eyebrow, confused “Wasn’t that appointment for tomorrow?”

Ryou scowls at a man who just flipped him off, annoyed “Nanase changed it last minute,” he says and then hits the horn angrily when the same man swerves his car to the right in a taunting manner “I’m transporting a _model_ here, would you _mind_?!”

Makoto grips his seatbelt a little bit tighter, and hopes Ryou will calm down eventually “So, we’re choosing the pictures today?”

There’s a long silence in which Sakurai continues to glower at the rest of the drivers trying to get to work in the streets, before the bodyguard finally nods “Yeah—it’ll be fast, don’t worry.”

Sighing, Tachibana pulls out his phone and texts Sousuke a small sad face.

_[text;Sou]: Sorry! I’m not going to make it to the coffee shop, there’s something I need to do._

\--

Haruka doesn’t know what he expected.

The guy’s a _model_ —it was obvious he had to stay twenty thousand feet away from that guy and never speak to him in personal terms.

He _knew_. He _knew._ He _knew_.

And he was still stupid enough to _like_ Makoto Tachibana.  

“You should stop moping,” Momoi tells him, going over some papers “And start _working_ —what about that brilliant idea?”

Nanase glares at her from where he is leaning against his seat, and decides ignoring his PA _is_ the most brilliant idea he has had in a while. He doesn’t feel like not moping (and besides, he is _not_ moping) and work sounds absolutely awful right now.

(Because work means looking over Tachibana’s pictures.)

His PA huffs, obviously annoyed by his stupid tantrum (it’s _not_ a tantrum, damn it) and slaps her notebook closed “That’s enough, you.”

Haruka makes some kind of noise in the back of his throat—Momoi can’t help but wonder if that is how a dying animal sounds—and turns his head sideways.

“I mean it,” Satsuki insists, leaning back against her chair and crossing her arms firmly over her chest “Those photos are not the end of the world.”

The photographer doesn’t deign her with an answer, only huffs half-amusedly and half-annoyed. Momoi doesn’t appreciate his temper, rolling her eyes as she leans over to smack him over the head. The black haired man swats her hand away, pushing his chair farther from their shared desk, and tries to hit her with the hardest look he’s got.

(Although he knows those don’t work with Satsuki anymore.)

“You’re being a baby,” she tells him, plopping back down unto her chair and crossing a leg over the other “We know nothing of those pictures—just that someone was clever enough to take them and you were wise enough to buy them off of them.”

(The woman thinks her boss is pouting, but that might be the fatigue’s eyesight.)

“They were on a date.” His mumble is almost barely audible and—dear lord he _is_ pouting.

Satsuki shakes her head “You do not know that, Haru.”

“I do.”

“Why?” her question is a bit aggressive “Because the stupid journalist told you?”

Silence.

Throwing her hands up in the air, Momoi lets out a strangled noise “What do _they_ know? Absolutely nothing, that’s what they know! Why are you letting this tiny thing stop you from charming the model’s pants off?”

Haruka looks slightly put off by her outburst—Satsuki is always mannered and pleasant with him, even when Nanase is being a little pain himself—but the photographer regains his footing easily “Because I am not looking to charm his pants off.”

Satsuki looks frankly offended “Really? Denial? I thought we were past that.”

Nanase shrugs and that’s the end of their quarrel.

\--

When they finally arrive at Splash Free, Ryou has to force Makoto’s phone out of his hands, confiscating the technological device until the end of their visit and commanding his charge to get his head focused on today’s task. Sakurai feels a little bad when the model looks down at him with big, sad green eyes, but he remains firm as he puts the cellphone into the inside of his dress jacket.

“It’s just for a couple of hours,” the bodyguard assures, opening the studio’s front door for the taller male “I’ll give it back once you’re done picking your photos.”

It doesn’t do much to ease Makoto’s sad little pout, but at least he’s not trudging through the halls anymore “Please take care of it.”

(And of course Ryou will—who does he think he is?)

They make their way through the halls hurriedly, because they’re late and they don’t want another incident like that one a year ago with Kisumi. Makoto catches a glimpse of Yukiko and Kanji, who smile and wave at him as he makes his way through the hallways, and he seems to be in a cheerier mood just by seeing them both. It’s not long until they’re standing outside a closed office, waiting for the photographer to come out.

“Ah,” a woman’s voice says behind them, and both men turn to find Momoi coming into the waiting room “You guys made it!”

Ryou looks absolutely distraught “We are _so_ sorry about being so late!” he says hurriedly “Traffic was absolute hell and we had to rush from the other side of town over here to get here and—“

Satsuki smiles softly, raising a dainty hand to stop the bodyguard from over speaking “It’s quite alright,” she says and Makoto thinks this woman might just be an angel “Please do follow me, I’ll take you to Mister Nanase.”

Both brunets nod, and follow behind her as soon as she starts walking. There’s a stiffness in her shoulders, Tachibana notices as he watches her small back, and he wonders what worries her at the moment.

He doesn’t have time to say anything at all, because it’s not long before they find their way back in the black room where Makoto’s photo shoot took place days prior. There’s a projector being set up and a bored looking Nanase sitting cross-legged in a single chair in the middle of the room. The black haired man turns to look over his shoulder and nods at the newcomers.

“Nice of you to join us,”

Makoto feels the colors shoot up to his cheeks and he bows immediately “I am very sorry about the lateness,” he says, frankly a little mortified “We were—“

Haruka turns away “Stuck in traffic, of course—let’s get this done with.”

Tachibana wonders where all of the kindness from the other day went.

\--

It’s been an hour into their meeting and Makoto really, _really_ wants to leave already.

Nanase has been closed and cold towards him, never directly speaking to him and choosing instead to ask his questions to Ryou. Every trace of a smile that had taken a hold of his features before is long gone, replaced instead with a deep frown every time Tachibana opened his mouth to speak.

It stings a bit and the model can’t help but wonder what it was that he did to anger the other so much.

\--

They’re nearing the end of the photo shoot—and, okay, Makoto didn’t know what real talent was until he saw this pictures—and the brunet is fidgeting nervously in his seat. He can’t take a second more of this whole charade, and he keeps glancing down at his clock as if it will save him from all the awkwardness and the stiffness.

After what seems like an eternity, the last photos roll around—the ones with Makoto laughing candidly on camera—and Nanase has no second thoughts as he chooses them both for the inside article.

“They’re the best out of the whole shoot,” he says when Momoi asks for an explanation and it makes Makoto smile stupidly at himself.

(Maybe, after all, Haruka isn’t as mad as he appears to be.)

\--

Ryou thinks he will have a heart attack.

The photographs are all spilled on the floor and the bodyguard feels like he will _most definitely_ have a heart attack.

Nobody is making a move. Momoi is grounded to her place, staring open mouthed at the files scattered messily across the tiled floor. Haruka is staring down at them, almost frozen in his place. Ryou is too busy having his own internal freak out and his legs just won’t move. And Makoto…

Makoto.

Sakurai turns to look at his charge—feeling like he could’ve snapped his neck with how fast he turned it—and finds him completely stuck in his place. The smile has disappeared from his face, his arms rigid against his sides and there’s this pained expression in his face that just breaks the bodyguard’s heart into a million little pieces.

(Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sakurai remembers one evening a year ago, when Makoto curled himself up in a ball and cried his heart out.

_I’ll never be free,_ he said, _they’ll never leave me alone_.)

“H-how did you get those?” Makoto’s voice breaks through the eerie silence and it sends both Momoi and Ryou scrambling to get the photos off the floor.

Haruka’s eyes look up “I had to buy them off someone,” he says, and his voice is so monotone and so cold that it makes Makoto visibly cringe “They were threatening to sell them off to some big magazine.”

Tachibana doesn’t answer as he stares at the pictures on the floor—his date from yesterday spilled on the tiles for everyone to see—and just nods jerkily.

Ryou finally stands up from his place and watches as Makoto’s entire body _crumbles_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the whole 'I'll never be free' thing is kind of a parallel to the series and Haruka's troubles in this, it will be explained further into the story so chill c: 
> 
> thank you for reading and for being so patient <3


	8. that sudden, gut wrenching moment of realization where it just hits you that your bed is not as big as you thought.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rin and Makoto ditch Splash Free, this bed is too small, and the authress is definitely masochist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, finally chapter eight is up! Sorry about not updating in two weeks, it's just been hard to keep up with you guyssssss
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

“Makoto,” Ryou tries a second time, feeling his heart crushed under the sound of the model’s sobs “You need to come out so we can talk, okay?”

He’s met with another wall of sobs, the soft sound of ragged breath coming through the closed cubicle. Sakurai sighs, leaning his head against the door, and feels like crying himself.

The model had run off from the dark room the moment the tears started falling down his cheeks, and Ryou had no other choice than to run off after him. Momoi had looked concerned at the turn of events, but the bodyguard knew bringing other people in to question Makoto would only end up making the model more upset than he already was.

Sakurai really, _really_ hated the press with every fiber of his being.

“Do you want me to call Rin?”

There’s a shaky affirmation coming from the inside of the cubicle and Ryou pulls out his phone in less than a second. He has Matsuoka set on speed dial in his work phone—for cases like this—and he takes zero time in bringing the technological device up to his ear.

_Please don’t be busy,_ he think wistfully, _please don’t be busy_.

Three rings and then Rin’s voice cuts in.

_“What’s up, mushroom?”_

“I need you to come to Splash Free,” Sakurai blurts out, mortified “The photography studio downtown? Can you get here fast? Makoto is—“

He doesn’t need to finish his sentence, because the Olympic swimmer is already moving—he can hear the air moving on the other side of the line “ _I’m on my way—keep him busy and don’t let him out of your sight_ ”

Ryou hangs up and decides he _has_ to pull Makoto out of that damned cubicle.

“Okay,” he says “We’re doing this the hard way, Tachibana.”

\--

Rin is loyal.

He’s always been that way and he will probably always be that way, but it’s a whole new level when it comes to Makoto.

They’ve been friends for as long as he can remember—Tachibana has been the one constant in his life and he’s grateful for having him—and Rin’s loyalty to the brunet exceeds every idea and expectation. He’d drop _anything_ in a heart-beat if it meant helping his best friend out, because he’s protective of him—more so than anyone else—and he can’t help but being mental when it comes to him.

So when Ryou’s call came in, he didn’t hesitate before he left the swim club.

He put on some clothes—uncaring about his wet swimsuit underneath his jeans—, packed up his stuff, and got in his car before any of the kids had a chance to ask him where he was going. The Olympic swimmer turned teacher was on the streets in less the five minutes, cutting people in line because _this was his best friend in trouble and he’d be damned if he didn’t get there on time_.

Less than twenty minutes went by until he found himself arguing with some stupid bodyguard in Splash Free’s entrance, trying to reason with the two meter guy and failing completely at keeping cool. A pink haired woman—who looked professional and a little bit scary—came up to him, and _demanded_ of him that he calm down and explain to her what the whole fuss was about.

When he explained Makoto Tachibana—his _best fucking friend_ —was currently, very probably, having a panic attack in one of their restrooms, the woman allowed him in without hesitation.

He followed after her through hallways and lobbies, getting more and more anxious as they turned every corner and opened every door.

“Why aren’t we getting there?”

The woman turns to look at him over her shoulder, sending him the coldest of glares, and he is instantly shut up.

(Not without some mayor grumbling, but he knows woman are to be feared and respected—courtesy of Gou, of course.)

Two hallways later and she steps aside, showing Matsuoka the sign above her head. He is prepared to lunge into the place, screaming Makoto’s name, before she sets a dainty hand on her forearm and smiles sadly at him.

“Please,” she says, “when you get the chance, do apologize on behalf of our team—we didn’t mean for this to happen.”

She turns over her heel, disappears behind a corner, and Rin is left wondering what it was that made his best friend upset.

\--

“Rin!” Ryou has never, ever been so happy to see the red haired swimmer, but he is beaming like a Christmas tree as soon as Matsuoka crosses the threshold.

“Where is he?” Rin asks, worry and mortification seeping into his voice with every word he says “Makoto, where are you?”

There’s a whine coming from the middle cubicle, and Rin rushes over to it. It’s obvious the door’s locked, but the red haired still tries his luck by trying to push it open—as expected, the metal door is stuck in place. Matsuoka sighs “C’mon,” he says, pitifully “Time to get out from there, Makoto…”

Shuffling and then the distinctive click of the lock sliding. Out comes Tachibana in all his red-eyed glory, and Rin feels like his heart breaks into a million little pieces. There are no second thoughts or words of comfort, before the swimmer pulls his best friend into a tight hug, allowing the gentle giant to cry some more on his shoulder.

Ryou feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders the moment Makoto begins to babble into the smaller man’s shoulder. He’s been trying to get the other to say something— _anything_ —for the past fifteen minutes, only to be answered back with sobs and whines. Now that Matsuoka is here, and Tachibana is finally speaking, it feels like they’re a step closer to calming the model down.

For a while, it’s just intelligent words—things that hardly make sense through all the sobs and the whines, until Rin manages to calm his friend down, drawing small circles in his back and shushing him. Makoto’s breath evens slowly, with a few hitch here and there, but soon enough he quiets down under Matsuoka’s ministrations.

“It’s always the same,” Makoto whimpers into Matsuoka’s shoulder “I can’t have my own life without it being photographed in the streets—yesterday’s date was a mistake and I shouldn’t have gone out with Sousuke…”

Rin’s frow burrows, and he finally understands what the whole thing is about.

So, he offers. “Want to ditch this place and come over to the apartment?” 

And Makoto doesn’t hesitate.

\--

Turns out ‘ditching this place’ also meant ditching Ryou—something the bodyguard did not appreciate in the minimum—and both men were now officially runaways.

“Sorry about the mess,” Rin apologizes, kicking a laundry basket out of the way “We were doing laundry yesterday and we—we kind of got distracted after a while.”

Tachibana snorts softly, still kind of depressed about the whole ordeal back at Splash Free. He doesn’t have any energies left and he feels like plopping down unto any surface he can find is the only viable option here.

Before he can fall down on the couch, however, Rin pulls him by the arm and guides him into the other room. It’s the spare room—a room that’s become a second house to the brunet—and Makoto welcomes the bed like it is the most precious thing that has ever graced the planet with its existence.

(And it is. It _truly_ is, damn it.)

“Okay,” Rin grunts and falls down next to him—Tachibana is really glad this bed is big enough for the both of them to fit comfortably “Now that we’re not a bawling mess of tears, what about you actually speak to me?”

The brunet mumbles something into the pillow, where he is currently trying to suffocate himself—it is not visibly working.

Matsuoka rolls his eyes, and wiggles closer to his best friend, nudging the taller one on the side with his elbow. This elicits a small round of laughter from his friend, and even when it sounds a little sad, Rin welcomes it like oxygen.

“Come on,” the red haired coaxes “tell your best friend Rin what’s going on.”

Turning slowly unto his back, Makoto lets out a pained groaned—such a drama queen—and takes the entirety of _two minutes_ to settle back down next to the former Olympic swimmer. “There are pictures.”

Rin wants to groan and say something along the lines of ‘tell me something I don’t know’, but he knows how hard this is on the brunet, so he decides to shut up and listen to what it is that’s lodged in Makoto’s throat.

“Of my date with Sousuke,” he continues “They’re about a dozen or so…” Tachibana shifts slightly in his place, shuffling closer to his friend because it gives him comfort and he needs a whole lot of comfort at the moment “Nanase had to buy them off of someone else—I owe him a whole lot.”

(Matsuoka doesn’t let the question slide out of his mouth, but it’s _there_.

Why would the photographer even come across those pictures?)

“It’s the same incident from last year,” Makoto lets out a shaky sigh “They’ll never leave me _alone_.”

Rin feels his chest tightening, because hearing his best friend’s voice so _broken_ makes him want to throw up “I know I’ve told you this before,” he starts, softly “but I _know_ you feel trapped—I _understand_ the feeling; like you’re drowning and no one can save you.”

Makoto gets this look on his face, like he’s about to cry, and Rin is quick to continue “But you have _me_ here, and you have Souji and Taiga, and Ai and the rest of your team—none of us are leaving your side as long as you feel like this, okay?” There’s no other response but a jerky nod “We’ll get through this, the same way we got through it last time—“

“Together.”

And that’s enough to lull Makoto to sleep.

\--

He wakes up to the smell of delicious cooking and kind of forgets this bed is smaller than the one back at home.

Makoto rolls on his side, expecting his mattress to keep him from falling to the floor, and is met instead with that sudden, gut wrenching moment of realization where it just hits you that your bed is _not as big as you thought_.

With a loud thud and a yelp, he falls to the ground, bringing down the covers with him.

“Makoto?” Nitori’s voice comes from somewhere down the hallway, and two full seconds pass before the smaller model peeks his head inside the room “Is everything okay?”

Tachibana groans, pushing himself off the floor with as much ease as he can muster “I just—the bed’s smaller than the one at the apartment.”

Aiichirou smiles softly “Dinner’s ready. Want to join us?”

The taller male doesn’t even bother to think about it, and he follows behind his co-worker without hesitation.

The couple’s apartment is actually smaller than the one Tachibana share with his other two friends, but its hallways are quite lengthy and the kitchen is the most beautiful thing you will ever set your eyes upon—Souji and Taiga had repeatedly stated they’d kill someone for a kitchen like that; Makoto doesn’t really care because they still won’t let him near it.

“You fell out of your bed again, didn’t you?” Rin’s voice is amused as he sets up the table for three, and Tachibana wants so badly to flick him over the forehead for his troubles “You move too much at night, you idiot.”

Makoto feels satisfied when Ai slaps his fiancé over the head “Leave him alone, Rin.”

(Matsuoka mutters something about how unfair this is, and then proceeds to finish setting up the table before Nitori can actually muster enough energy to kick him.)

They’re sitting around the table a minute later, after Makoto made it his personal mission to help Aiichirou serve the plates and the lemonade glasses. Nitori seems to let him do whatever he wants, because the smaller model has given up on refusing any kind of help from the brunet after so many years of living in close quarters.

“There was this kid at the swim academy who reminded me of you,” Rin says, biting down into a piece of meat.

Makoto looks up from his mashed potatoes to stare strangely at his friend “Really? Why?”

Matsuoka gives him a dazzling grin “He was afraid of the water and still wanted to come to swimming class.”

“You guys never quite told me that story,” Ai says, interested “Want to tell me about it now that I’m finally getting married to your idiot of a best friend?”

Tachibana smiles lopsidedly, feeling a little embarrassed.

(In the back of his mind, he knows this tactic.

He knows they’re just trying to get his mind off of things.)

\--

Sousuke stares at his phone a couple of times, a deep frown settling on his lips.

He wonders if something happened to Makoto in that thing he needed to do, and then discards that thought because it’s stupid and he should not be worrying over such a trivial thing like an unanswered text. Tachibana has a bodyguard and he’s sure the man must be capable of taking care of the model with ease.

There’s nothing to worry about.

(He just really wishes he could talk to Makoto.)

\--

Ryou is a terrible, _terrible_ bodyguard.

Kuroko will most probably murder him, there’s no doubt of that, so he drives slowly through the streets, letting other people cutting in line and being incredibly adamant about traffic rules. He’s just drawing out his sentence, he knows, but what else could he possibly do?

(He really wishes his husband was here.)

\--

Haruka feels like a terrible person.

He’s ordered Momoi to cancel all of his appointments for the day, and has locked himself up in his office for the last couple of hours. Satsuki has tried plenty of times to get him out, but he’s stubborn like that, and the woman is just wasting her time, really.

Haruka truly feels like a terrible person.

He shouldn’t have let that happen. He shouldn’t have let Makoto see those pictures. It was obvious there would be a negative reaction to them—his life on a piece of paper, that’s what they are—and it was stupid of him to bring the pictures out to the room where they would be meeting up with the Future Fish model.

He has to burn those pictures—he has to do something to make it all better.

Decided, he picks up the phone, and dials Future Fish’s office.

“ _Hello?_ ” he recognizes this voice; Makoto’s manager.

“Ryugazaki, right?”

_“Ah! Yes! Is this Nanase?”_

Haruka takes in a deep breath “Yeah, this is he—I have a request to make.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel terrible for hurting Makoto, I am a horrible, horrible person.


	9. that makes us sound like we’re your parents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rei is a terrible manager, Makoto gets an unusual text message, and Rin and Ai are Tachibana's parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am on TIME this week? What is this sorcery? HAVE I FINALLY GIVEN MY SOUL TO HELL? 
> 
> No. I just was responsible and sat down to write all day yesterday in order to get this chapter out! Hopefully I will get next chapter up next Tuesday and not until two weeks from now cx I'm not really very comfortable with this chapter? I feel like I just kind of filled in with stupidity, so excuse me if it does seem like that? Chapter 10 will be infinitely better, no doubt there, because we finally get MH action c: 
> 
> So yeah, hope y'all enjoy!

Ryugazaki has always prided himself in being good at calculating things.

The manager won his place through hard work and preventing bad things from happening—it is in his nature to foresee things that no one else can and it has proved to be one amazing trait to have in the business. He’s avoided catastrophes from happening in the past; has helped his models gain terrain and overcome obstacles that he saw from a mile away; he is, by far, one of the most capable managers Future Fish has to offer.

But he never saw _this_ one coming.

The moment Ryou stepped into his office, looking serious and forlorn, he knew there was something wrong, but he couldn’t quite understand what it was. Then the bodyguard had spilled the events of the day—the pictures of the date, Makoto’s panic attack, and the inevitable involvement of Tachibana’s best childhood friend.

Rei had panicked. There were still two more interviews Makoto had to conclude that day—part of his punishment for disappearing the last time; not Ryugazaki’s favorite thing to do—and he had to call so many people in order to cancel stuff.

Not to mention they’d have to keep things low key—the boss did not need to know about what happened that day.

Then the call had come and Rei really, _really_ didn’t see that coming.

 _Haruka Nanase_ had called.

And he had asked for a favor.

A favor which Ryugazaki did not think he could make possible.

_“Please,” voice stoic as usual, Nanase had sounded a little strained “I know it might be a little too much to ask.”_

_Ryugazaki had put on a smile, hoping to convey to the photographer that he wasn’t as nervous as he felt “We are in debt with what you have done for Makoto—if there’s anything we can do for you, we’ll try to make it possible.”_

_“I’d like to speak with Tachibana privately,” there was something in the photographer’s voice that sounded a little off and Rei felt his own breath hitch in his throat “I want to apologize, if I could.”_

Rei had tried to insist there was no need to apologize to anyone, but Nanase had repeated over and over again that he really needed to apologize to the model. At the end, the manager had left him at ‘I’ll see how possible your request might be’ and hung the phone, sighing deeply.

Sure, Rei prided himself in his calculating mind, but this was something even his formulas couldn’t have avoided.

\--

“This is ridiculous,” Taiga repeated for the nth time that day, draped over the couch like the biggest, laziest cat that ever lived “This is the second time Banana has disappeared, and _this is ridiculous_.”

Souji sighed from inside the kitchen, thinking his best friend was too much to handle at such late hours of the night. Kagami was known for being whiny and annoying, and it was impossible to deal with him without the gentle nature of Makoto to counteract such heavy personality.

“Call him again,” Seta added helpfully from his place cooking dinner “I’m sure you’ll find it _real_ funny when he hangs up the phone on you like the last twenty times your tried.”

Taiga groaned, completely annoyed with the situation, and grabbed the nearest pillow so he could choke himself with it. Plopping the item down over his head, the red haired model let out a low scream, muffled under the thick layers of cotton.

Souji shook his head, feeling helpless over the situation. Ryou had assured them Tachibana was safe and sound at Rin and Ai’s house, but it didn’t make the grey haired feel any less nervous. The two engaged men are known for pampering the hell out of Makoto—specially on rough days like these—but Seta just feels awful not having his friend around.

He feels like a bad friend, unable to do anything about his friend’s hurt.

“Oh, stop it” Kagami calls out from the couch.

Seta can see the red haired looking at him from the corner of his eye, and he begins to think having Taiga around is not so very bad. He’s keen on his feelings, something the grey haired is very thankful for.

“Don’t brood about it anymore,” the basketball junkie continues, stretching his arms above his head and letting out a low whine as his back cracks “Makoto will come to us when he feels ready—I can understand why it would be easier for him to talk to Rin instead of us.”

Thinking about it, Taiga is not all that bad.

\--

Tachibana wasn’t feeling up to anything at the moment.

The evening he had spent with Rin and his fiancé had been healing, to say the least, but the model was still left feeling exhausted. Since he had spent the whole day napping at the other men’s apartment, he was left feeling restless and jumpy what was left of the night. Sleep was not coming for him, and he was left tossing and turning in his bed like someone trying to get rid of a nightmare.

Sighing, he decided maybe he should kill time by doing other things.

Pushing himself off the bed, Makoto walked over to the small backpack sitting on top of a chair. Nitori had made sure to pass through Ryou, Taiga and Souji in order to get a change of clothes and some essentials so he could spend the night—the little grey haired model was a gift from the gods and Rin was so lucky to be marrying him soon.

Digging through the bag, he came upon several things he really appreciated Ai packing for him, but didn’t bring any of them out just yet. He was looking for something in specific, thought it seemed to have tumbled to the bottom of the backpack after being handled from one place to another.

Letting out a soft yell of victory, Makoto managed to fish out his phone from below his rolled up jeans. Falling back down on the floor into a sitting position, the model unlocked his device, and was instantly greeted with a wall of messages and missed calls, courtesy—mostly—of his two very concerned co-workers.

(He likes their concern—feels safe knowing they have his back at all times.)

Tachibana is quick to write back a message to them, apologizing for leaving them all by themselves again and promising to clean the kitchen extra well once he goes back home. Taiga replies instantly with a bunch of letters thrown together for the sake of it and a voice note that basically forces the brunet to silence his phone on a whim.

Next he sends a message to Sakurai, with a sad face and a quick apology, hoping the bodyguard isn’t too mad at him after having been ditched at Splash Free. The smaller brunet doesn’t write back, so Tachibana lets him to his sleep and continues to check the rest of his messages. There’s a bit of a wall of text from Rei’s part, asking him to get well soon and wishing him the best on his impromptu day off.

(It makes Makoto feel a little bad about ditching work today—who knows in how many problems he got his manager in this time.)

Then there’s Sousuke’s messages, and those make him smile like nothing that day could. He stares goofily at the screen while scrolling through the five messages the soccer player sent him, and he can’t help that little fluttering in his stomach he gets when he reads them over and over again.

**_[received text;Sou] guess you are not done yet?_ **

**_[received text;Sou] my coach literally sent me home, can you believe that?_ **

**_[received text;Sou] being training-less is awful_ **

**_[received text;Sou] like it’s so boring, how do non-athletes deal?_ **

**_[received text;Sou] it’s even more boring without you tho_ **

Yamazaki’s way to say _I’m lonely_ is a bit weird, and Makoto finds it quite endearing. It’s kind of the opposite of what the model thought it would be like, talking to the soccer player, seeing as how he was expecting boldness and bravery to say brash things. Instead, Sousuke hides behind badly dropped hints and meaningless chatter—it’s cute, to be honest.

Still smiling, Tachibana is quick to offer a reply, once again apologizing for his sudden disappearance and promising the dark haired man a reposition for the coffee date they had to cancel that day. It sends a couple of electric shocks through his body when the man answers almost immediately, and Makoto feels like he really wants to laugh right now.

**_[received text;Sou] good to see you in the land of the living, tachibana_ **

_[text;Sou] Sorry, sorry! I didn’t think things would go the way they did today!_

**_[received text;Sou] something happen today??_ **

_[text;Sou] Nothing you should worry about (:_

_[text;Sou] I’m better now that I can talk to you_

**_[received text;Sou] oh stop it you, you’re making me blush_ **

_[text;Sou] Am I really?!_

**_[received text;Sou] wouldn’t you like to know??_ **

_[text;Sou] You are so mean, Sou!_

**_[received text;Sou] just sleepy, not mean_ **

_[text;Sou] Did I wake you up?!_

**_[received text;Sou] naw, I was still awake_ **

**_[received text;Sou] my dog wouldn’t stop howling to the moon_ **

_[text;Sou] You have a dog? I didn’t see it last time I was there?_

**_[received text;Sou] my neighbor walks it sometimes_ **

_[text;Sou] You don’t really have a dog, do you?_

_[text;Sou] I really did wake you up! I am so sorry!_

**_[received text;Sou] it’s fine, makoto, I was waiting for you to text back_ **

**_[received text;Sou] to be honest_ **

_[text;Sou] Well, I’ve texted back now, so go to sleep!_

**_[received text;Sou] but mooooooom_ **

_[text;Sou] Go to sleep now! You have training tomorrow!_

**_[received text;Sou] IF the coach lets me in today_ **

_[text;Sou] Just go to sleep, Sousuke!_

**_[received text;Sou] what about you, pretty boy?_ **

**_[received text;Sou] don’t models need plenty of sleep?_ **

_[text;Sou] I slept all day today!_

_[text;Sou] Please go to sleep!_

**_[received text;Sou] fiiiiinee! but you still have to make up for that date!_ **

_[text;Sou] Of course I will!_

**_[received text;Sou] goodnight, pretty boy_ **

_[text;Sou] Goodnight, Sousuke <3 _

Makoto stares at his phone for a couple of more minutes, his smile growing bigger and bigger on his face as he reads their conversation over and over in his head. Sousuke has such an uncanny ability to make him look like an idiot in the worst of times, and the model is grateful to have had this conversation with him in the privacy of the guest room, away from Rin’s mocking glances or Ai’s knowing smiles.

It makes it way more intimate for them both, he guesses.

After his Yamazaki-induced euphoria has washed away, Makoto decides to finish checking his messages, aware that there is still some unanswered texts and missed calls he has left unattended. He answers Rise’s cheerful message, thanking her for the good wishes and trying to piece together just how she had found out what had happened. Next is a missed call from Kise, which he replies with a quick apologetic message and the promise to call him later.

Lastly, there’s a message from an unknown number in between all of the familiar faces. Frowning confused, Makoto clicks the contact and starts reading the mysterious message, brows furrowing deeper and deeper as he goes on.

**_[received text;unknown number] I’m sorry about what happened today. I hope we can speak again soon and I can apologize properly to you._ **

For a moment, he thinks it might be Satsuki Momoi, Splash Free’s pink haired assistant and vice president, but he quickly discards the thought.

Because the text is signed at the bottom, giving the sender’s identity away.

**_\--H.N._ **

\--

“You’ve spent all morning looking at your phone like it will jump up at you from your hands and eat your face,” Rin comments over breakfast, and Makoto fumbles to lock his phone so badly that Matsuoka’s concerns only grow bigger.

“It’s not really going to do that, is it?” the Olympic swimmer asks, eyebrow raised “Who is it?”

Tachibana shakes his head, putting his device away in his back pocket, and leaning back down to busy himself with eating. He knows it’s not enough to sway his best friend to stop with the questions, but he still gives it a try.

Rin only seems to get more curious, though “Is it Yamazaki? Is it?”

“Couldn’t be,” Ai offers helpfully from behind his newspaper “He’d be smiling like an idiot if it were the soccer player—Sakurai ratted him out to me the other day.”

(Honestly, Makoto feels a little offended.)

Matsuoka nods, “You’re right, it has to be someone else—someone he doesn’t want to speak to, maybe?”

Nitori shuffles in his place, closing the paper, and folding it neatly on the table before him “Is it the boss? Did you get in trouble with him, Mako?”

Tachibana shakes his head “No, no!” he assures “None of that! Rei’s been very helpful on that area—has kept me out of trouble since last week…”

“I’m glad, then” Ai says, smiling softly “You know you can tell us if something is bothering you, right?”

“The correct word would be ‘someone’ in that sentence,” Rin corrected “That makes us sound like we’re your parents, though, so it’s good Ai used the other word.”

Makoto smiled softly, looking down at his almost untouched breakfast. Last night’s text had had him wondering about yesterday’s event, specially the pictures and how they had gotten into the photographer’s hands. It had kept him awake eve after he felt tired enough to go back to sleep.

Silently, the model pulled out his phone and slid it over the table.

Looking a little confused, Matsuoka grabbed the phone and unlocked it—knowing very well his best friend’s password was his own birthdate. Instead of opening on the home screen though the device had immediately opened a text message that had been delivered yesterday at around eight in the evening.

“How did he even get your phone number, though?” Rin asked, dumbfounded “Did he just manage to stumble upon something as private as a model’s number?”

Makoto shrugged, swallowing down another small bite of scrambled eggs “I don’t really know—I was checking my messages yesterday and saw he had left one.” Sighing, he put the fork down “I am not sure I’m ready to face him after the way I broke down in front of him.”

Rin wants to tell his friend that may not be the precise reason why he should feel hesitant about talking to Nanase, but as soon as his mouth opens up around his first word, his fiancé digs his heel into his thigh where it had been resting and the Olympic swimmer promptly shuts up.

\--

“You worry too much, Rei”

Ryugazaki would like to tell his boyfriend that he does not worry too much—he worries just the right amount for the both of them—and how this is a very delicate situation that amounts for just this much worrying over. Nagisa just takes things too lightly, if he is being honest with himself.

“I made a big mistake, Nagisa” he says, completely ignoring his urges to snap at the blond man “I shouldn’t have given Makoto’s phone number away—I am a terrible, _terrible_ manager.”

Hazuki laughs, leaning back on his chair as he does so, and Rei feels like his partner should start taking things a little bit more seriously “You are _not_ a terrible manager! I think you did something good for Mako!”

“That’s impossible,” the spectacled-man insists “This was a horrible violation of Makoto’s privacy and I should be fired for it—oh lord I am such a horrible, _horrible_ manager”

Hiding his face in his hands, the head manager let out a string of incoherent words that made no sense together—or even alone.

Nagisa just found it really, _really_ adorable.

“Stop that already!” the blond whined, leaning forward in his chair “It’s not like you had another choice, did you?”

“I could’ve refused to give out his number—I could’ve said it was company policy!” the manager straightened up from his position, looking more mortified by the second, and brought his hands up to yank at his hair.

Hazuki sighed, finally choosing to stand up from his place and shorten the distance between himself and his boyfriend. Looking both sides before leaning down to the other’s level, Nagisa took Rei’s face between his hands and pulled him forward, delivering a chaste kiss to the unsuspecting manager.

That shut him right up.

“Look, I think you did something good,” it was unusual to see Nagisa so _serious_ “You might’ve given out private information—sure!—but I hardly think Mako will hold it against you!”

Ryugazaki, still stunned after the impromptu kiss that should’ve been kept out of the office, tried to come up with some valid argument for this discussion, only to come up with none.

“Worst case scenario? Makoto doesn’t want to speak with Haru and we’ll have to cut ties with him—whatever!” Nagisa runs his hands through short hair and smiles softly “Best case scenario? Mako and Haru talk, things are resolved and everything is going to be _fine_.”

Rei is left opening and closing his mouth, gaping at his boyfriend like a fish, before Nagisa leans back down again and kisses that stupid face away “Things will be fine—now stop worrying and let’s go finish booking those interviews for Rise, okay?

Pushing himself away from the manager, the blond man skipped out of the office, humming a happy tune under his breath. Ryugazaki managed to keep an eye on him until the little ball of energy turned a corner and disappeared behind a pilar.

Sighing, Rei stood up to do just what he was told and prayed for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, look out for my personal tumblr! There will be an announcement this week for all of those interested in keeping up with DHBE! My friend is helping me with something and I'm hoping you guys will support us once we're done with it!


	10. shut up and get back to work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto makes a decision, Haruka is close to tell him the truth and maybe Kise's phonecall wasn't for nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additionally from apologizing about being a shitty writer and not updating for like three weeks, I wanted to dedicate this chapter for the cool kids at the join.me session who were patient and lovely with me. 
> 
> So that's Sands (weshouldkissnow), Yeye (yeyewonsomething), Lord (dumpster-lord), Viewer8 (I NEED YOU BACK NOW), SM5ever (YES YOU TOO.) 
> 
> So yeah, thanks guys ! You are a rad bunch and I hope I can see you next week when I write DHBE XI
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!

**CHAPTER X**

“Do I _really_ have to?” Makoto whined, looking at Ai sitting in the couch across the room.

His grey haired co-worker only peeked up at him from behind the books he was currently reading—it seemed their discussion had been going on for _hours_ now, and it always came back to the same phrase Tachibana continued to repeat over and over like a broken CD.

“I’ve told you— _not really_ ” Nitori assured, **again** “If you don’t feel comfortable speaking to him, then decline his request and tell Rei you can’t do it—we all know Ryugazaki will completely understand and support you a hundred percent.”

Makoto, however, looked as unconvinced as the last five times they had gone over the same argument. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Ai when he said his manager would most definitely help him out on anything—because everyone knew Rei was soft hearted and the kindest man on earth—but he just didn’t know.

He didn’t know if he wanted talk to Nanase or not—the more he thought about it, the more he ended up wishing he _could_.

But then again, how could he face the man after what had happened a two days ago at Splash Free?

Distancing himself from work had not helped either. Although being at Rin’s apartment made him feel a whole lot more secure than being back at his own, there was still this queasy feeling in his stomach that made him feel like something was terribly wrong—like things could get much, _much_ worse than what they already were.

Sighing, he slid down in the couch he was occupying, bringing the blanket he was using around himself a little tighter. “I _should_ talk to him, shouldn’t I?”

Nitori sighed, bringing his book down into his lap so he could finally stare at Makoto straight on. His co-worker’s ‘wishy-washy’ attitude wasn’t much of a surprise to him anymore—especially considering how Tachibana always wished to please everybody around him—so Aiichirou didn’t take the whole thing personally. This wasn’t because Makoto didn’t understand his point of view, but rather because he was too indecisive about absolutely everything.

“Look,” the smaller man began, uncrossing his legs from under himself and leaning forward “I know it might seem really scary to speak with him at the moment, but maybe it might help you feel better about things.” Nitori shrugged, smiling “It’s up to you, though. What would make you feel calmer at night? Cutting someone out of your life or trying to fix something that could be?”

Honestly, Ai gives much better advice than Rin.

\--

“Do you think he’ll say yes?”

Haruka honestly doesn’t know, so he doesn’t bother in answering Momoi’s question. Whatever Makoto chooses to do or not to do is not something he can predict, and whether he accepts or denies his proposal is up to him. If the model doesn’t wish to speak to the photographer again, Nanase will not be pressuring him into doing so.

“I think he’ll say yes,” Momoi answers herself, looking pensive, as her paper work lays forgotten down on her desk “He doesn’t look like the kind of person who’d throw a potential friendship out the window.”

Nanase finds her observation a bit curious, because he thinks Tachibana wouldn’t hesitate in cutting someone toxic out of his life if he had the chance—then again, he’s never been particularly well-versed in other people’s feelings.

Satsuki sighs “Have you thought about what you’ll tell him?”

“The truth.”

“Meaning…?”

Haruka sighs, thinking his VP will never let him work on this if he doesn’t answer “I’ll tell him where the pictures came from,” he tells her “Apologize for making him upset and that’s it.”

Momoi whines “What about the date I told you about?”

“I am not asking him out on a date.”

“Why not?”

“Because he is seeing someone else.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Did you not see the same pictures as me?”

Satsuki frowns “That’s called _dating_ and it doesn’t mean _exclusive_.”

Nanase rolls his eyes, clicking his pen back to life, and dropping his eyes back to his paper work in an obvious display of annoyance. He’s hoping Momoi will take the hint and just _drop the subject,_ but he knows he’s just not _that_ lucky.

“I mean it, Haru!” she chastises “He’s a nice guy and I saw the way you smiled at him when you were doing his photo shoot!”

Haruka clicks his tongue—really, does this woman not have a love life of her own?

“ _And_ you sent him flowers.”

“Shut up and get back to work.”

\--

It’s approximately nine o’clock when Makoto finally makes his decision.

His eyes are closing dangerously fast, left exhausted after the ordeals of the week, and he thinks _this is it_ —he’s made his decision and he can only jump up from his bed to tell someone the good news.

Tachibana picks up his phone from the night stand next to his bed, brimming with nerves and excitement, and he looks for Rei’s phone number as quickly as he can. He _has_ to do this before he loses his conviction entirely. As soon as he finds the wanted contact, he starts writing a quick message to his manager, feeling his stomach do flips in his belly.

_[text;Rei] Do you think you can arrange a meeting with Nanase tomorrow? I think I’ll speak to him._

The answer comes mere seconds later—although a bit sluggishly and badly written, something unusual in the manager, and Makoto feels like he might’ve awoken the other—and Tachibana feels a lot more better knowing that he has done something correctly for once this week. Rei seems eager to set up tomorrow’s meeting, and tells the model it will be done as fast as possible.

The brunet lets himself fall down unto his bed again, staring at the text response in his phone, and sighing.

“It will be fine,” he tells himself, trying to still his beating heart “It’s just a friendly chat between two people—we’re going to clear things up and we’ll go our separate ways.”

Either way, it doesn’t make him feel particularly better, and Makoto falls asleep in between ragged breaths and panic crawling up his throat.

\--

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

Next morning, Rin keeps asking him the _exact same thing,_ and it has begun to waver Makoto’s will. He’s always been an indecisive man, and hearing his best friend asking the same question over and over again—it makes him feel like this might’ve been a horrible idea.

Gratefully, Nitori is there to keep his spirits up “Of course he’s sure,” he says, although he doesn’t sound too convinced “He decided this on his own and it would do him good if his best friend was being a little bit more supportive about this.”

Rin sighs, thinking maybe his fiancé takes Makoto’s side _way_ too much, and nods his head reluctantly “Fine, fine” he says “I’m sure it will be alright, Makoto—just try not to freak out on the man, got it?”

Which earns him a punch to the shoulder, courtesy of Aiichirou, who doesn’t seem too pleased about his partner’s choice of words.

Makoto laughs uneasily, feeling his stomach doing flips just like last night “It’s okay, Nitori” the brunet says, a forced smile sliding on his face “Rin’s just—well, he’s just being Rin, I guess.”

Matsuoka frowns “What does that _mean_?”

“It means you’re being the biggest jerk in the history of jerks,” Ai doesn’t give Makoto any chance to protest “And the worst best friend in the history of bad friends.”

Rin tries to say something about that, but his fiancé—once again—cuts him off with a wave of his hand “Don’t say anything else—you’ve _helped_ enough.”

Tachibana smiles fondly at his friends, although he can’t help the way his lips tremble or how his hands shake. He appreciates Nitori’s efforts to make him feel better about the whole situation, and he knows Rin’s comments are just delivered in that joking manner he’s always sported—he just doesn’t feel very well this morning and he might need to sleep all day again.

He can’t though. The model has an important lunch meeting today and there’s no way he’s skipping that now that he’s made a decision. This is something Tachibana _needs_ to do, and he will go through it.

Although, he thinks he might need Souji’s advice before getting there.

_[text;Souji] Think you can come pick me up at Rin and Ai’s?_

_[text;Souji] Preferably in Yousuke’s low-key car, if you could?_

**_[received text;Souji] Sure thing. It’ll take ten minutes for me to get there, is that okay?_ **

_[text;Souji] It’s fine. Take your time if there’s traffic. I don’t want any accidents._

**_[received text;Souji] Got it, honey ;)_ **

And, somehow, that small, insignificant reply, makes Makoto beam like a Christmas tree almost immediately.

\--

True to his word, Seta arrived ten minutes after his text message, inside his boyfriend’s old, beat-up car, and sporting his ‘ _low-key’_ outfit.

(By which we mean Souji is awfully bad at going undercover and probably gained a lot of attention with those weird, mustached sunglasses he is wearing right now. Curse his odd sense of humor.)

“Ordered a ride?” the grey haired asks, looking at his brunet friend over the rim of his odd glasses and winking “Kagami couldn’t make it—hope he wasn’t requisite for this ride.”

Makoto smiles softly, shaking his head as he opens the back seat door to drop his backpack down. He turns around to say one last farewell to his hosts, and waves all the way into the passenger seat. Souji pats his shoulder in a weird form of greeting, and makes sure to takes his glasses off before starting the car up again.

“Were your impromptu vacations enjoyable?” Souji wastes no time in asking the questions, and it makes Tachibana a bit uncomfortable.

The brunet only shrugs “Sure,” he says “Ai’s breakfast is always nice to wake up to.”

Seta lets out a huff, looking mildly offended “Are you saying _my_ breakfasts aren’t nice to wake up to?”

Makoto laughs “I’ve just missed being around Ai and Rin, that’s all.”

The grey haired model nods a couple of times, changing lanes and thanking the car behind him for letting him through. The woman driving the car screeches so loudly when he sees him, both models actually _hear_ it through her rolled up windows.

“You _were_ very close to Ai back when he lived with us,” Seta said, absentmindedly “And Rin’s your best friend—I understand you felt safer over here.”

There’s a certain bitterness in Souji’s words, and Makoto doesn’t want to hear that tone of voice ever again. It cuts through him like sharp needles, and he finds himself reaching out to rub his friend’s arm comfortingly.

“I feel safe at the apartment, too” he assures “I needed a change of pace—that’s all. Please don’t feel like I’m setting you aside.”

The grey haired model, smiles softly at the road before him, shaking his head “I don’t feel like you’re setting us aside,” he says, convinced “I guess it’s just the feeling of helplessness that makes me like this—when I heard from Ryou what had happened, I felt like I needed to do something.”

There’s a brief pause.

“And I couldn’t…”

Makoto turns his head sideway to stare at Souji, frowning at the way his brows joint together in the middle of his forehead “It’s not your responsibility to deal with me.”

Seta hums, not quite convinced with that argument “It’s not your responsibility to deal with this whole thing _alone_ , either.”

“Souji…”

“Look, Taiga and I can give you as much time as you want to think and get yourself rid of bad vibes,” the grey haired continues, stopping at a red-light “But that doesn’t mean we don’t feel stupid and helpless when something happens to you and we can’t do anything about it—it would be nice if you’d share your troubles with us.”

Before he knows it, Makoto explains the whole thing to Souji.

\--

He arrives at the meeting place before Nanase does, which gives him time to think Seta’s words over in his head. They’re kind of like a life-line by now, and he keeps repeating them over and over like a mantra inside his mind.

He hopes they’ll be enough to get him through lunch.

Five minutes pass, and then he spots the familiar set of black hair and blue eyes crossing the threshold into the restaurant and directly to his table. Haruka Nanase greets him briefly before he takes a seat across from the model, looking uneasy and tense.

“I’m glad you’ve accepted to speak with me,” Haru starts talking, and his voice shakes and wavers like he doesn’t know _exactly_ what he is saying “I didn’t want to leave things as they were.”

Makoto smiles goofily, feeling relaxed as he notices Nanase’s own nerves shining through—at least it’s not only him.

“It’s quite alright,” the model says “I really wanted to apologize for the way I—“

“Please,” Haruka interrupts, voice firm now “Don’t apologize—this wasn’t your fault.”

Tachibana frowns “But—“

“Really,” the photographer continues “It was my fault you even saw those pictures and I think some explanations are in order—if you’d take them, of course.”

Makoto’s brows furrow and he cocks his head sideways “Explanations?”

Haruka sighs heavily “Yes, you see…”

\--

Kise frowns at his phone, looking quite comical while he does so, and sighs heavily.

“Why won’t he answer my phone calls?” he says to no one in particular, looking offended and very much worried.

Kasamatsu rolls his eyes, trying to get Ryouta to pay attention to him again. He’s holding two outfits in his hands, and a bored look on his face—they’ve been in the dressing room for more than two hours, and Kise still hasn’t chosen any of the clothing. The manager knew very well today would be quite tedious, but he didn’t know it would be _this_ horrible.

“Maybe he doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore,” Yukio tries, smiling sardonically at his client’s frown “Now—pick one damned outfit.”

Ryouta whines “But I _need_ to talk to Makoto—my outfit for tomorrow’s photo shoot can come later.”

The manager looks positively distraught “Why would it be so important that it interrupts clothes choosing?”

Kise sighs, locking his phone and closing his eyes “The boss brought Kisumi back,” he says, slowly.

And it downs on Kasamatsu that maybe Kise is not a spoiled brat after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slithers back into document to keep writing*


	11. pun intended, of course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisumi hates Future Fish (much like all of us did season 2), Makoto comes up with a nickname for Haruka, and Kise knows for a fact things are going to explode any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I'm a horrible writer who forgets she has responsibilities, you guys can keep throwing the tomatoes tbh
> 
> I think this one's better than last time, but I really like how the MH scene went by. I hope y'all SM shippers take this chapter in stride because its says in the description that this might be both MH and SH and I know you guys are hella cool c:
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy

**CHAPTER XI**

Makoto finds it all pretty surreal when Haruka begins telling him the real reason behind his possession of the photographs. The model listened intently to every word the other said, looking more and more deflated as the story went on.

The photographer had confessed to having contacted the original owner directly, but not with the purpose of getting this pictures precisely. Haruka had worked with the woman before—back when he was beginning his career—and he had been looking for something to write about in the next issue of Splash Free monthly magazine.

His contact had been more than happy to give him the pictures after Nanase had offered a certain sum for them, although he had never intended to use any of the photographs in the actual spread. The black haired man had apologized several times through the story, never looking directly at Makoto for more than three seconds at a time.

“So,” the model began, almost in a trance “You didn’t just manage to stumble upon them, then?”

Haruka shook his head “I was looking for something I could use—I didn’t think I’d find something concerning you.”

Makoto hugs his arms around himself and he slides down in his seat “It’s fine—it’s not your fault you found them.” A pause, a deep breath “Plus, I think it’s better you had them than her…”

Haruka agrees, nodding “I can get rid of them if that’s what you wish.”

Tachibana thinks, closing his eyes as if that will help him think any more clearly, but there’s too much background noise and the smell of food is making him hungry. He can’t think like this.

“Do as you please,” he says, finally “Just—don’t publish them…I don’t know what my boss—“

Haruka raises an eyebrow at the abrupt cut of the brunet’s sentence “Your boss?”

Makoto shakes his head, an uneasy smile settling over his lips “I forgot where my train of thought was heading,” a nervous laugh, a scratch on the back of his neck “I guess it wasn’t important.”

(But to Nanase, it sounds like it’s something very important.)

Tachibana straightens up in his seat, like he’s trying too hard to redeem himself for what he’s just said “Why don’t we order something? I’m _starving_.”

Haruka feels like the model is hiding something, but doesn’t press the matter. He waves the waiter over to their table and they both order something. The photographer finds it hilarious how the brunet seems to be so indecisive about what to get, and he has to step in to order for him when the waiter begins to look impatient. Makoto offers him a sheepish smile and thanks him for the gesture.

“Sorry,” the model says “Rin says I’m really wishy-washy for a guy in my position.”

“Your position?” Haru props his chin on his hand and stares into green eyes “What _exactly_ is a guy on your position?”

Tachibana smiles softly “A guy in the public eye.”

Nanase lets out a laugh through his nose, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his lips “You are just too nice for your own good.”

A soft chuckle “Rin says that all the time too—but I don’t see the damage there.”

“What are you going to do when someone asks you to do something you don’t want to?” the photographer asks, suddenly “Will you agree with them?”

Makoto pouts “Well, no—I mean—I don’t know—maybe—depends?”

Haruka shakes his head, smiling “See? What if I asked you to pose naked next time you work with me?”

Tachibana’s colors immediately showed in his face, making his as red as a tomato as he almost choked on his own spit. The tip of his ears, the bridge of his nose, his neck that disappears down a cardigan—they all fire a cherry red color. He tries to say something— _anything—_ but it seems his vocal chords won’t coordinate with him and he ends up letting out an unintelligible string of words that Nanase finds absolutely endearing.

“It’s a joke,” Haruka says, leaning forward to set a hand on Makoto’s shoulder, effectively gaining his attention back “I’m never going to ask that of you, okay?”

The model is still too flustered to form any coherent words, but he nods shakily at the other’s affirmation.

“I’m just saying you should work on your assertive skills a little bit more,” the photographer continues “Try say no once in a while—it’s not the end of the world if you’re not sweet and pleasing all the time.”

It takes a while for Makoto to recover, but he eventually manages to gulp down some water and calm down his heart rate. All the while Haruka seems to be quite amused with this turn of events, and wonders if this can actually be classified as a date.

Wait.

Nanase frowns, looking down at his napkin as if it had done the worst thing that a napkin could do—which isn’t much, he guesses—and thinks his VP is rubbing off on him. Shaking his head a few times, Haruka convinces himself that _this is not a date_ and it couldn’t be, because Makoto is seeing someone else.

“Everything okay?” Makoto asks, waving his hand before blue eyes to capture the other’s attention again. His face is still rosy pink, but he seems to have gathered himself together when Haruka’s attention had turned away from him “You seem to have space off a bit there.”

The black haired man shakes his head “It’s fine—I was just thinking my VP was such a hassle.”

Makoto laughs softly into his hands, shaking his head “Momoi seems to be pretty nice and hard working.”

“She is—she is also meddlesome and frankly annoying.”

“Don’t say that,” Tachibana laughs again, which takes away a little bit of the edge to his words “She’s your second in command after all—there’s a reason she got there.”

Haruka shrugs “Yeah, by being meddlesome and annoying.”

“Haru!”

The nickname comes out of nowhere, which surprises both men a little bit, but Nanase doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. Instead, a small smile spreads across his lips and he lets out a short laugh—which he tries to disguise as a cough, of course.

“Sorry about that!” Makoto apologizes quickly “I didn’t mean--!”

“It’s fine,” Haruka is quick to add before the model can say anything else “Haru is fine.”

There’s a small lull in the conversation after that, where Makoto looks down at his lap with a silly smile etched across his face, and Haruka seems to find the ceiling pretty interesting.

Then, Makoto says the one thing Nanase really wanted to deny.

“I had forgotten,” he begins, smiling up at him again “I wanted to thank you for the flowers you sent to my apartment the other day! They were very lovely!”

Yep. Haruka will panic.

\--

Kisumi doesn’t like being back in Future Fish.

He feels like something is _awfully_ wrong, because he’s out of place here. The former model doesn’t belong here anymore—he hasn’t belonged here for a long time—and being called back all of a sudden seems a little bit fishy for him.

(Pun intended, of course.)

He goes floor after floor, waving hello to old friends he used to have and trying not to look too offended by the looks of surprise he gets in certain places. His skin crawls when he gets to the last floor, and he takes in a deep breath that he hopes will calm him down.

(It doesn’t.)

Shigino doesn’t go straight for the boss’s office—he takes a detour and heads down a hallway where his old manager’s office had once stood. The plaque adorning the place has been long gone, and the door seems to have been locked for a very long time. Looking at the wooden frame longingly, Kisumi pulls out his phone and messages his friend back in the states that he has arrived safely and that everything is under control.

(Blatant lie, he knows, but whatever.)

He really doesn’t want to be here, damn it.

Kisumi gives the door one last glance, brows furrowing in the middle as he thinks back on all the things that once took place in the office. Although they’re all good memories, the fact that the room is now empty brings him a feeling of dread—as if the emptiness of the room somehow inflicts him damage—and he turns over his heels in time to continue his way.

He’s back in the main hall, heart rate quickening as he walks closer to the big office that wasn’t there before. So many things have changed, he knows, and it only makes that feeling of dread grow heavier in his chest.

He knocks twice “It’s Kisumi—may I come in?”

There’s a shuffle on the other side of the closed door, a couple of curses thrown aimlessly as something crashes to the floor and shatters. Shigino winces at the sound, thinking maybe this was the worst idea ever—he should’ve stayed far, _far_ away from this building; far, _far_ away from Future Fish and everything that has been going on in here.

“Door’s open, Shigino!” comes the voice from the inside, seemingly innocent though Kisumi knows all too well you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.

The former model twists the knob and pushes the door open, stepping inside as he tries his hardest to seem happy to be back. His smile looks a bit strained as he makes eye contact with the man inside, but it doesn’t falter and he doesn’t try to sprint away from the place likes his senses are telling him to.

“You haven’t changed a bit!” Adachi Tohru doesn’t look a day older either, and he doesn’t seem to have changed much. His suit is still the same mess it used to be when Kisumi worked for him, and his childish smile is still very much present. His eyes, however, seem to be the one thing that look _vulnerable_ —it’s there where Shigino catches a glimpse of all the lies.

Kisumi laughs meekly, scratching the back of his neck nervously “I’m a little bit taller than I used to be,” he says “Other than that I’m still the same, yes.”

Adachi grins goofily “As you can see, I’m still the same mess I used to be—sorry about the broken vase over there,” he points at a mess of broken shards of glass on the floor “Step around it so you don’t get hurt, okay? I’ll call someone to clean it shortly.”

Shigino does as told, walking around the broken shards with care “So,” he begins, looking warily at Tohru’s leaning form over the phone “What was so important I needed to get back to?”

There’s a slight change in the boss’s demeanor then. Adachi goes rigid as the question leaves Kisumi’s mouth, and his former smile turns down into a frown. The man straightens back on his chair, looking directly into Shigino’s eyes with no expression whatsoever on his face. The basketball player squirms uncomfortably under the gaze and he turns away to stare at the broken vase on the floor again.

“Why don’t you sit down, Shigino?” Tohru’s voice is soft and caring—like he is trying _too_ hard to appease Kisumi’s obvious nerves—and he walks around his desk to reach the door, which he closes with a single push.

The former model winces again, hands curling into fists where they lie on his lap, and tries to calm down before something else goes wrong. Adachi takes his time to walk back to his desk, heavy footsteps like a beating heart. Kisumi wishes he would’ve refused the damned invitation, and then decides that was probably never an option.

When Tohru finally sits back down on his chair, there’s a smile back on his face, although this one is cold and arrogant. Future Fish’s boss knows _exactly_ what he is doing.

He is toying with Shigino.

\--

Makoto barks out a laugh, trying hard to even his breathing back to its normal rate. Haruka stares at him from across the table, smiling fondly at the model before him. They’ve been in this position for almost three minutes, and Nanase won’t stop cracking out jokes in that dead pan voice of his. Tachibana feels like all air has left his lungs, but the photographer has a good sense of humor—albeit a bit weird, and off placed—and he’s having a great time either way.

“I don’t understand what you find so funny,” Haru says, blue eyes fixed on the way Makoto’s cheeks are flushed pink “I’m just talking.”

Tachibana is too far gone to be saved now, and he just continues laughing. He tries to muffle his laughter behind his right hand, but it’s not working particularly well.

“People are staring,” Nanase says “I am serious, Makoto—people are looking at you. Do you want to be listed as that crazy man in the restaurant who won’t stop laughing?”

Makoto tries to take in deep breaths, hoping it will somehow help him, but he just can’t seem to get himself under control. A quick assessment of the restaurant confirms Haruka’s words, which only sends the model into another fit of laughter.

That is, until he sees the camera flash going on from the corner of his eyes.

Tachibana sobers right up, stops laughing almost immediately, and turns his head to the left. As he feared, there’s a young man standing behind a column, seemingly unnoticed, holding a camera in his hands and snapping a picture after the other.

“Haru,” he murmurs, looking away as discreetly as he can “There’s someone snapping some pictures in the column to your right—don’t look, but we need to get out of here.”

The photographer doesn’t turn, only nods once and raises his arm to ask for the tab. A flustered waiter moves to aid him immediately, turning over her heels to get what was ordered of her. Meanwhile, Makoto moves uneasily in his chair, looking like he might die any minute now. It was bad enough to get photographed with someone—now this was a different person he was being taken the photographs with.

Taking a sip from his water, the model knows this is in no way good for him.

The tab comes, Haruka pays, and then they’re up and out of the restaurant. Nanase takes caution to keep his head down, hoping the pap doesn’t take any more compromising pictures. He knows he doesn’t have Sousuke’s build, but he might be able to pass as the soccer player for Makoto’s sake if worse comes to worst.

Before the door closes behind him, the black haired man takes one last look at the young man holding the camera and memorizes his face.

He’s getting those pictures soon enough.

\--

Adachi is not a patient man.

He hates having to wait for things to come to him—annoys him to no end. He is a man of action, of doing, and he’s not very happy with what has been done this week with Makoto Tachibana’s career.

He knows Rei tried to keep the photographs a secret from him, but Tohru has contacts everywhere—Ryugazaki should’ve known better than to keep such a thing from him. Now he’s mad—very much annoyed by his employee—and he needs to set his plan into action as soon as possible. 

He’s called Kisumi back to Tokyo as fast as he could. Shigino had owed him a favor ever since he went to the states to pursue his basketball career, and Adachi found this to be the perfect time to finally use that service offered to him all those years ago.

Now, where was his phone when he needed it? There are things that need to be done.

\--

_“Oh good! You’ve answered!”_ Kise’s voice sounds oddly relieved when Makoto picks up the phone later that day after Haru’s taken him home _“I’ve been trying to reach you for **days** , man!” _

Makoto frowns “I’m sorry, Kise!” he feels really ashamed about forgetting to call his friend “I completely forgot to call you back the other day.”

There’s a sigh on the other side of the line, _“Its fine—I figured you have had some though days._ ”

Tachibana nods a couple of times, though he knows Kise won’t be able to see him. “It has been tough, yes…” the brunet tries to force his smile to slide into his voice “What did you need, Kise? I don’t think you’ve called me so insistently only so you could talk to me a while.”

_“Well, sadly, you’re right,”_ Kise says, voice crestfallen _“There’s something big coming, and I wanted you to be aware of it before something bad happened.”_

Makoto sits up in his bed, brows furrowing “Ryouta? Is everything okay?”

Another deep sigh, this one a lot longer, and Makoto feels like he's choking _“Kisumi’s back in Tokyo—and, from what I’ve heard, he’s not here only to sightsee.”_

**Author's Note:**

> *hides behind a boulder and continues slaving away*


End file.
